Queen of Chaos
by Milady Darkan
Summary: Prophetic dreams, Attacks from Dementors, Deatheathers killing, lost prophecyes found and all in the summer before Harry Potter's 6'th year. what will happen once he stepes into Hogwarts? And what if Sirius isn't lost for good?
1. Summer at the Dursleys

Disclaimer: ok ok...I know that: Harry Potter, names, characters and related indicia are copyright and trademark Warner Bros. But don't sue me, I'm not doing this for money I'm doing this just so that my mom can yell at me that I should torn of the computer and do my homework. I know very well that J.K. Rowling is the one that created the characters I'm just borrowing them to see what I can do with them. Also I have used lyrics that also don't belong to me so don't sue for that either. Evanescence-Going Under, The Rasmus-In the Shadows, Him- Heartache Every Moment. And Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious from Marry Poppins.  
  
Quinn of Chaos  
  
CHAPTER I Summer at the Dursleys  
  
It was a normal summer day; actually a normal summer night. All the houses on Privet Drive had their lights turned off. Everybody was sleeping except, a 15-16 year old boy, in the dormitory of house number 4. His name was Harry Potter.  
  
He was a tall boy, thin, on the verge of being extremely skinny. His black hair was ruffled with no chance of ever taming up. Through his glasses (repaired more than once by his best friend Hermione Granger, who, more than once, suspected of being his lover, although it wasn't true) were bright green eyes (everybody said were just like his mothers, unlike the rest of his features, that were obviously those of his father).  
  
Less than a year ago, the likeness to his father would have made him very proud, but now he wasn't so sure. After finding out certain things about his fathers past, specifically when he was 16, just like Harry had been for the last five or six minutes or so. But still found he could not think badly of his father. After all, both his parents had sacrificed their lives for him in an attempt to save him from Lord Voldemort, an attempt that, against all odds ,actually worked.  
  
Harry was still here, unlike so many others that had faced the Dark Lord; he was The-Boy-Who-Lived. But this encounter had left traces on him, the most visible being the scar on his forehead, now masked by his messy hair but it wasn't the only one. There were wounds that were deeper than that, and that only recently, with the Dark Lords' revival, were coming to the surface.  
  
But in this house he was protected from all that, in more than one way. Voldemort could not get him here; in exchange he could not get any information of real use from his friends. Even after Dudley's little encounter with the dementors, wizards still didn't exist, according to his uncle and the neighbours, excepting Mrs. Figg; the lightning bolt scar was from the car crush in which his parents, supposable drunk, had died. This theory kept ringing in his head, especially after all the times Aunt Marge had said it in the last past week during her visit. Thank goodness she was leaving tomorrow. Harry thought it was about the best birthday present he had ever received from the Dursley.  
  
He was sitting by the window, looking at the monotonous rows of houses outside. He was sixteen now. Only about a month more and he would be back to school. In the past this used to brighten him up, but now Hogwarts seemed to have lost all its charm on him.  
  
Far in the horizon he could see a strange shape moving straight towards him. When it got close enough he was able to recognize it as his owl, Hedwig. She was bringing him mail. This had a slightly cheering effect on him. Although he was used to sending a letter to the members of the Order almost daily, and would talk to Mrs. Figg regularly, he did not receive as many letters as he sent. The last letter he had received, in fact, was the one from Hogwarts with his OWL results; it had been surprisingly cheerful.  
  
He had gotten passing marks at everything, excepting Divination, where he miserably failed. And if this wasn't enough, the 'O' in potions had to top it all; he could not even think what McGonagall had have to do to make sure he would be able to follow Auror training after leaving the Hogwarts. Although, now that he thought about it, he wasn't so glad; after all, this meant that he had to endure two more years of Snapes' sarcasm, which he did not think humanly possible.  
  
The owl flew through the window and landed on the window ledge. Harry took the package attached to her foot and after gave her a treat before putting her in her cage. He opened the note attached to the parcel. The paper was covered in Hermiones tiny neat handwriting.  
  
Dear Harry, Happy birthday! (hope it's not too early). Can't wait to see you. And if you are already fuming and would like to send me a howler, I want to tell you that I'm not there, only Ron is. And I know you don't like books but the potions book I send you will help you a lot.  
  
Best wishes,  
Hermione  
  
The mention of potions made him more than reluctant to open the package, but still, it was a gift, so he tore the package with little enthusiastism. As he looked at the book's cover, he found it wasn't a potions book, but a Quidditch one. What was the world heading for? Hermione joking?  
  
He was awakened back to reality by a thud on the window and a greyish feathery thingy landing on the floor in a mess. When was this old thing going to die, Harry muttered. It looked like a big grey zombie. He placed the still unconscious Errol next to Hedwig and picked up Ron's mail.  
  
Harry mate, Hope you're still ok. Don't know when they're rescuing you, but hang on, it's not like they'll leave you there all summer. Things are strange lately; don't know what else to say. Can't wait to see you and Hermione. Hope you'll like the present. Although be careful, it's a new invention of my brothers, you'd better wait till you get here otherwise you might have problems with magic use again.  
Till soon,  
Ron  
  
Typically Ron, send him a present that he couldn't use. Well this was all; no more letters or notes, not even a cake. Lousy birthday, just like every year. He finally got into bed; it was late, and he still had to get up at some time tomorrow. Maybe if he was lucky Aunt Marge would be gone already when he got up. He only hoped that at least on his birthday his nightmares would stop hunting him. He closed his eyes and fell asleep. 


	2. Dreaming Reality

Chapter 2 Dreaming Reality  
  
He was walking past houses on Privet Drive. It was dimly lighted. The only light was coming from the stars in the sky and the big round red moon, hanging low in the night sky. There was fog; the whole atmosphere strangely reminded him of Trelawney's classroom, it had the same air of mystery. He heard strange noises behind him. He turned around with his hand already on his wand. What he saw in front of him was a total shock. A big, black, shaggy dog was trotting towards him. He could not believe what he was seeing. It must have been his godfather. Or was it? He could also hear the rattle of a chain the dog was dragging. When it passed straight through a mail box Harry's heart sank. It wasn't Sirius after all.  
  
The spectre was coming closer and closer to him, this scared him a bit, but he was no longer afraid of dying, he would have actually welcomed it. This way he could have rejoined with so many people he cared for. The dog seemed to come straight to him, he actually increased his speed, breaking into an dash. However, to Harry's surprise, the dog just passed him and kept going. Harry now turned again to see where the spectre was going. In front of the next house was now a cloaked dark figure. At first he thought it was a Dementor, but when she called the dog, he realized it was a girl's voice.  
  
She was speaking now with the dog in plain English, but he wasn't able to understand what she was saying. He was no longer human. He felt himself slither closer and closer to the girl, until he was finally close enough to hit. He lifted his head and with the speed of light struck. His long, sharp, fangs bit deep into the smooth flesh.  
  
A loud noise woke him from sleep. Gauzily, he opened his eyes, but the light was really bright so he closed them again. When he turned to the clock, he noticed that it was already ten o'clock. Aunt Marge should have left by then. He got up from the bed and placed his glasses on his nose, then went to the window to see what was causing so much racket.  
  
There were new neighbours moving in the house near his. Well, he should go and check what was going on, so, as quickly as he could, he got dressed up and scrambled down the stairs and out the door. On the house porch, all the Dursley family was present, surveying what was going on. To his great distress, Aunt Marge was still here with Ripper.  
  
Following their example, Harry stared at the new neighbours as they were unpacking. They were a lovely family of four, parents and two daughters and a pet, either a cat, or a small dog judging by the size of the cage. One of the girls, a blond-red head looked more like her father, while the other girl. Who looked slightly older and more like her mother. She had raven hair with strands that looked blue. Unlike her sister, who was wearing something typically girlish, she was more of the anti-fashion type. She had large baggy jeans and a loose t-shirt, with her hair up in a loose, practical bun.  
  
Busy staring at the neighbours, Harry forgot to check if the Dursleys had noticed him, so when Uncle Vernon shouted at him to stop staring and go and see if the neighbors needed any help, he tried to vanish as fast as he could. In his haste, he accidentally stepped on the dog's tail.  
  
A fatal mistake, as he already knew from experience. Without a second thought, Harry went into a mad dash through the front lawn, and jumped the fence in a heartbeat. The dog was right on his track, in an instant he was going to catch him. He jumped the neighbour's fence and was about to climb in their tree, when he tripped on something and fell. From the corner of his eye he saw the black haired girl drop her box and shout at the dog.  
  
'STOP'  
  
The animal stopped dead in his tracks. Harry could not believe his eyes. Ripper would not have responded that well to Aunt Marge's commands, not to mention the fact that he attached everything that moved or breathed.  
  
The girl kneeled in front of the dog and gave a light slap.  
  
'Bad dog, why did you chase him?" she stood up, still looking the dog straight in the eyes with a very cross look on her face. The dog gave a small whimper, when she repeated the words 'bad dog' he crawled to her feet and turned on his back, exposing his belly. The girl gave a soft sigh and kneeled again near the dog, this time rubbing his belly.  
  
'You're not a bad dog, are you?' she cooed.  
  
The whole scene left Harry speechless; it was just too strange. The girl stood up again and turned towards him.  
  
'Are you ok?' she asked him with a hint of humour, holding out her hand to help him up.  
  
'Me...I...um...' he could not articulate a single word for anything in the world.  
  
'Do you feel alright? Are you hurt?' she asked him again, this time her voice sounding worried.  
  
'Um...yes... I'm alright' he felt himself go red.  
  
'What happened? Cat got your tongue?' she was definitely set on humiliating him. Before he could articulate a single word, not that it would have been any time soon, he admitted to himself, the screams of Aunt Marge hit their ears with incredible force.  
  
'WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY DOG YOU...YOU...' she couldn't even finish her sentence with all the spume that was forming at her mouth; Harry and the girl were already wet from all the spiting.  
  
'I did not do anything to your freaking dog. It tried to kill someone, and I stopped it. Is that a crime?' Harry could not believe his ears. She was either incredibly bold, or extremely stupid, to talk like that in front of Aunt Marge.  
  
'WHAT'S WRONG WITH MY DOG? MY BABY COME HERE, COME TO MUMMY.' The dog did not stir from the girl's feet, which infuriated Aunt Marge even more.  
  
'Nothing, lady, and don't spit on me. Just take your dog and get of my lawn." The girl said coldly.  
  
What happened next was a disaster. Uncle Vernon joined in the quarrel. So did the girl's parents, even other neighbours came to see the show. Harry sneaked from the crowd and tried to get as far away as he could. When he had about two houses between him and the others he heard someone call after him.  
  
'Hey!' Harry turned to see the girl following him. He stopped and waited for her.  
  
'Er, thanks for saving me from that beast' he said, cursing himself in his mind for not having anything else to say.  
  
'No prob, you're lucky I was there. By the way what's your name?' but Harry wasn't really listening to her anymore; he was just looking into those unnatural ink-like blue eyes that seemed to swallow him up.  
  
'My name's Spica, but friends call me Spice. So yours is?' she asked again.  
  
Still mesmerized by her eyes, he answered her in a dreamy way 'Harry, but my friends call me Harry.'  
  
'Right. Funny. Be like that.' she just turned around and headed back to her house.  
  
Why did he have to be such a dunderhead around pretty girls? 'Hey wait, look, I'm sorry' he tried in vain to call her back, she pretended she did not hear him.  
  
Why wasn't Hermione around to tell him how to act and what to say? For Merlin's sake, what was wrong with girls? One minute everything was cool, the other they were close to slapping him.  
  
With these thoughts in mind he kept wondering aimlessly all day. There was no way he could go home now. Home; only Dumbledore could think of Privet Drive as his home. For nobody in that house did his mother's blood matter. But it did mattered to Dumbledore and Voldemort.  
  
How was it possible that the spell still worked, when Voldemort could touch him with no problem? Was the spell actually working? Harry was able to feel Voldemort's feelings more and more and; the only reason why he wasn't plagued with nightmares about dark revels was because the ones with Sirius were so prevalent, though last night's dream hadn't been one of those. It was a strange mix of both; maybe it was just a bad dream. 


	3. Potty wee Potter and his girlfriend

Chapter 3 Potty wee Potter and his girlfriend  
  
The weary voice of the girl in his dream was obsessing him. The sounds, none of which were understandable, was like when the wind flows through the forbidden forest in a hoarse wail. He felt like he could understand it, if he really tried.  
  
Blurring and stirring the truth and the lies/ So I don't know what's real and what's not/ Always confusing the thoughts in my head/ So I can't trust myself anymore/ I'm dying again.  
  
It was the same voice, but he was sure it wasn't from his head. He turned to his side and he saw that girl Spice-something, on the other side of the street. He had another chance to talk to her and he didn't want to blow it. She didn't look like she desperately wanted company, in all honesty, it looked more like she was trying to avoid it. Still, nobody could blame him for trying to be nice. And what was it that she was singing? It wasn't like the Dursley to listen to music and Dudley had never tried watching anything else but Cartoon Network.  
  
'Hello' He would slap himself if he ever again tried to start a conversation with hello, it was just too stupid.  
  
'You scared me' was her response, almost dropping her bag.  
  
'Sorry didn't mean to do that.' He apologized.  
  
'It's all right, but next time worn me before you say hello.' She said humorously.  
  
She continued walking although a little bit slower so they could talk.  
  
'Wanted to apologize for earlier.' He said turning a shade of crimson, wondering about how one goes about warning someone they're going to start a conversation.  
  
'Apologize for what? It's not like you did anything, it's just that lately all sorts of things have happened and I'm a little bit nervous, so I snap at people out of nothing.' She responded.  
  
He didn't know what to say, really, or what to do, but a brilliant idea popped through his head. 'Let me help you with that bag.'  
  
'Right. An Englishmen is always a gentleman, isn't he?' the girl replied. This made Harry blush to the tips of his ears, something which he had previously thought only Ron capable of. They carried on walking and talking.  
  
'So, where are you from?' he questioned.  
  
'America, although a great grandmother of mine is from Britain.' The girl responded matter-of-factly.  
  
'Oh' he responded. Not smart, Harry chided himself.  
  
'How long have you lived here?' she asked him.  
  
'Since I was about a year old. My parents died and I had to live with my aunt and uncle.' He didn't know what had possessed him to tell her all this.  
  
'Died? How?' this new subject seemed to interest her somewhat.  
  
'They were killed...' he paused for a bit, than in a bitter tone continued '...in a car crash.' He was looking straight into her eyes and he saw something strange in her eyes, and the question she asked stunned him.  
  
'That's how you got that scar, then? When your parents died?' it unsettled him, the look in her eyes; it told him that she knew more. He just mumbled a 'yes' and walked on. She couldn't know the truth. Or could she? Was she a witch? No, she couldn't have been, but then again, he had lived all his life next to Mrs. Figg, and he had never known she was a squib. But no, it was ridiculous, she was from the States.  
  
'Didn't mean to upset you, you know. It must be hard to talk about your parents, so lets just change the subject.' Spica said.  
  
'Ok.' He agreed. 'What do you want to talk about?' she had made him smile. It was nice of her to offer. He was annoyed by how people tended to keep on talking about that subject.  
  
'Well, well, if it isn't potty wee Potter, you found yourself a girlfriend, cous?' came the voice of Dudley. This brought Harry's mood lower than an afternoon spent in Snape's office.  
  
'What do you want, Diddykins?' He asked, maybe he had learned some of the art of sneering from Snape. In all those long years spent away from this people he hated, the Dursleys.  
  
'Just wanted to tell you that mum has already packed your bags and you have nothing more to do in my house than pick them up and go.' Dudley smugly informed him.  
  
'It is my house also, as long as I live there, and I still live there. Your mum knows she can't throw me out and she won't, trust me.' Harry replied.  
  
'I'm just telling you what happened.' Dudley said, feigning innocence.  
  
'And I'm just telling you what's going to happen. I'm going to stay in that house until Dumble...' he was about to finish when he realized it was a little bit to strange to talk about these things in front of Spica. 'Oh never mind. Why am I even consuming my time and energy explaining something to you, Dinky Diddydums? See you at dinner, Dud.' Harry turned around and almost dragged Spica by her arm to a safe distance from Dudley and his gang. Harry didn't even pay attention to all the teasing and kissing sounds were coming from them.  
  
Before she had a chance to say anything he told her. 'That's my cousin, an imbecile; please don't ask me questions about him, or the rest of my family.'  
  
'Right Wasn't about to question you about him, or those other fat ones. They scared the crap out of me this morning. Poor you, and poor dog that's all I can say.' She responded.  
  
'Poor dog? You actually feel bad for that monster?' Harry said incredulously.  
  
'He's no monster, and he told me how much he hates his mistress for beating him up and how that's why he takes it out on everybody else that's weaker than him.' She said.  
  
'He told you so?' Harry was getting more and more suspicious. Who was this strange girl with her inky black eyes?  
  
'Well, I meant that's why animals usually act like that.' she had hesitated a little, but the answer was good enough for him.  
  
'Right.' She said. 'Well, we got to my place. I would usually invite you in, but since we just barely moved it looks as if a flock of hippo... potamus'  
  
'Right...' said Harry at this point he was a little bit worried at what he was supposed to do, if only Hermione would be around to tell him some tips.  
  
'Hey, sis, already got an admirer? You move fast, no kidding. We've only been here hours and already you have someone. And a real gentleman, walking you to your doorstep and all. Nice haveta admit.' A girl's head had popped out one of the windows, wearing a Cheshire cat grin. 'What the...? Char... Cherry you'll get it! You hear me? Now get in and leave me alone.' Spica yelled at her sister.  
  
'Whatever.' The girl muttered, pulling her head back inside.  
  
This little incident gave Harry an idea, so when she turned around he surprised her by picking up her hand and kissing it. He then turned around and left, leaving her opened-mouthed. He was so happy now he didn't even care what the Dursleys were to say. He crossed the street to their house and went in and up the stairs straight to his room. This had been some day.  
  
But it wasn't over yet.  
  
He reached his door but on his threshold was the big slobbery mutt of Aunt Marge's. He didn't know how to pass it without waking it up, but he did not have time to wonder, for the dog woke up and looked him in the eyes. Every time the dog had looked at him in the past, the animal's eyes were filled with hate, but this time Ripper looked happy to see him, so happy that he even wagged his tail and let Harry pass easily to his room. Surprised at the dog's attitude, Harry opened the door; before he even got all the way in, the dog had already leapt in his bed.  
  
Harry didn't know what to do, he wasn't tempted to have the dog attack him, but he did want to lie in the bed. He gingerly inched closer to the bed watching the dog's reaction. Ripper just yawned and turned on the bed, exposing his belly. Baffled by this, Harry got on the bed and scratched the dog. He had never even got to pet him in the past, and now he was rubbing his belly. Whatever that strange girl had told him had been in his favour. He lay down beside the dog and before he even knew what hit him, he was asleep. 


	4. The Only One He Never Defeated

Chapter 4 The only one he never defeated  
  
He was in a darkened room. It was a very tall room, with pillars holding the high ceiling. It looked somewhat like a marble forest Harry thought as he walked down the rows of columns to a place near the middle, where a group of people were assembled. This was the place from where all the voices could be heard. There was a gathering of some sort here; men with dark robes and masks on their faces. He immediately recognized them as being Death Eaters. They were all gathered in a circle around their master, the Dark Lord. It seamed like a very important meeting, or a trial of some sort. Harry stepped a little closer, careful not to let himself be heard. Now he could see Voldemort himself. His hood was up; in the bright light of the moon Harry could even see his glittering, snake-like eyes. There was a cloaked figure close to him and Harry guessed she was a woman. He immediately knew who it was, Bellatrix Lestrange. She was there, next to her lord and master, grovelling at his feet. There in front of them was another figure, it was held down on its knees by two other of Voldermort's lackeys. It wasn't struggling to get up. The hood had fallen off and Harry could see the long dark hair underneath. The cloaked figure was a girl, slightly older than Harry, but still, she seemed to be holding Voldemort's attention. His eyes were locked to her, she did not seem intimidated by his stare. She did not try to look at something else but stared directly back at him with deep eyes. They were like ponds in which he could drown, like endless pits in which he could fall and fall and fall and no one would ever find him. The Dark Lord gave some orders. Harry couldn't really hear what he was saying; he wasn't sure why, whether it was because he was too far away, or because he couldn't understand the language.  
  
One of the men yanked on the girl's sleeve, splitting it and exposing the pale white skin. She did not flinch, nor did she seem content. She was impassable to all around her, yet she seemed to control it all. When her eyes had been looked to Voldemort, she had seemed to be the one in control. Voldemort took out his wand and with a swish, an ethereal form of the dark mark appeared at the tip of his wand. Harry realized she was going to be branded.  
  
So this is why she was so calm, he thought, she wants this. The moment this thought passed through Harry's mind, the girl turned her head and locked her gaze with Harry. It burned him. Hippogriff stares wasn't half as strong, a unicorn's glance wasn't half as pure, and a basilisk's gaze wasn't so petrifying. How could he know anything about her? How could he judge her? While she kept her eyes locked to his, Voldemort touched her with the tip of his wand burning the mark on to her arm.  
  
But something happened at that moment. Harry wasn't sure what. He suddenly felt happy, ecstatic; he had a new weapon against his enemy. The girl in front of him was going to be all he ever needed. He removed his wand from her arm and the mark was incredibly clear to everybody. He bent down to see the mark that stated his possession over her. He couldn't help himself and touched it, but the moment his bony finger touched the mark, it burned him like nothing else and that moment he looked eyes with the girl again. Just like the first time, her eyes only showed him hate and revulsion. He could not get into her mind no matter how hard he tried. He looked deep into those eyes, searching for the slightest trace of fear, pain, panic but she did not know what those things meant. She was stronger than him. He could not break her, he could not possess her. He had to look away before he would lose himself. He glanced back at her arm and to his surprise the mark was rapidly fading away, until in a few moments there was nothing there on her arm, not even the faintest trace of the dark mark. He could not believe it he looked again at her face and he could see a wicked smile playing on her lips. She almost pitied him. He could not take this humiliation; if he could not have her then she was off no use. Taking a few steps back he took out his wand and uttered the killing spell "AVADA KEDAVRA".  
  
But when the words left his mouth, Harry realized it wasn't him doing this; it was Voldemort. He was still in his place behind one of the big pillars. He could not take his eyes off the figure; he knew what he was going to see. She wasn't the first of Voldemort's victims to die in front of him. Yet it did not happen. Instead of her falling lifeless to the ground she broke out into laughter. It wasn't the strange high-pitched laughter of Voldemort; it was a pure, innocent laughter. The laughter of a child. The men had let her go and were backing as far as they could from her. She got up and walked forward, towards Voldemort, the Dark Lord was backing away from her.  
  
"You think you can kill me? You meaningless pawn? You think you can take my life away? I am life, you string puppet. In all this chaos you have created, I am chaos. Just wanted to give you a proof of what I can do, nothing more." And with this she just vanished, without a trace.  
  
Harry woke up. He was sweating. He took his glasses off the table and placed them on his face. When he looked out the window, he saw that the sun was just rising. 


	5. Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious

Chapter 5 Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious  
  
He couldn't take it anymore in this place. He wanted to see his friends, and although he wasn't sure if he would have told them anything about his latest dreams, he was sure he would feel a lot better. It was hard to stay away from Hogwarts during the summer every year, but now it seemed unbearable. The Dursley seemed more and more like strangers to him with each passing day. He was starting to doubt if the spell Dumbledore had told him about was still working, as he would by no means call this place home.  
  
He got out of bed and went down the stairs and out the door. He never wanted to see them again, and although he still lived in the same house he was going to do as much on his part to accomplish this. He walked down and up the alleys; it passed some time, until he realized that Aunt Marge's dog was following every step he made. This brought back all the strange happenings of yesterday to his mind. That girl. That girl, that was the same one to haunt his nights as well, although in a strangely different form.  
  
They say that I must learn to kill before I can feel safe/ But I I'd rather kill myself than turn into their slave/ Sometimes I feel like going down I'm so disconnected/ Somehow I know that I am hunted to being wanted.  
  
How could it be that every time he was thinking of her she was there just around the corner, singing one of her little depressing songs? She was sitting in one of the few still usable swings left in the children's park by Dudley's gang. And she looked so down that he for one moment seemed to forget about all his worries and just wanted to comfort her as best he could. But he knew he wasn't good at this.  
  
'A morning person, are you?' he asked out of nowhere.  
  
She lifted her head quickly and he was expecting her to be scared; he wasn't expecting her to look straight into his eyes as if using Legilimency on him. The moment his eyes locked with hers, his scar burned with a force he had not felt since that awful day at the ministry. Then her stare melted somehow, so did the pain in Harry's forehead.  
  
'Early bird, are you? I see you've brought the dog with you. You're getting a lot better together.' She greeted him.  
  
'I don't know what you told this dog, but he turned into my shadow. You made Hedwig jealous.' He said.  
  
'Hedwig ?' she questioned.  
  
'My...' how could he tell her that he had a pet owl? it wasn't the usual animal to keep in a cage, and by the sounds she always made she wasn't thinking that either... 'my pet owl?'  
  
'Owls are considered to be very smart birds. Are they really?' Was all she asked. Every thing she did, every thing she said, made Harry think she was coming from a totally different world all together.  
  
'Yes they are.' He answered sheepishly.  
  
'Why are you out this early?' she asked.  
  
'I could ask you the same thing.' He retorted. 'But if you really want to know. I had a bad dream.'  
  
She smiled at him 'Something like that.' she just said, and than looked out at the rows of freaking identical houses. He could tell she was on the verge of crying, but he didn't know what to do or to say. Was this the effect he was to have on every pretty girl he met? He thought, thinking of Cho.  
  
He sat in front of her on the damp grass. Something about her kept drawing him closer. When she looked at him again that sad look had passed. She was almost smiling.  
  
'How about you come over to my place for breakfast?' she offered.  
  
'That would be great, but won't your folks be a little suspicious about me there?' He asked.  
  
'Nonsense, almost every day if I could I would have someone at my house for at least one meal, or I would be out at someone, it will just seam normal.' Now that she had done that, she got up and was almost bouncing around. Harry got up himself and followed her. They didn't exchanged a word on the way to her hose. She was singing again: Su-per-cal-i-frag-il-is-tic-ex-pi-al-i-do-cious !  
  
Even though the sound of it is something quite atrocious  
  
If you say it loud enough, you'll always sound precocious  
  
Su-per-cal-i-frag-il-is-tic-ex-pi-al-i-do-cious ! Um diddle diddle diddle, um diddle ay  
  
Um diddle diddle diddle, um diddle ay  
  
She was just the strangest girl he had ever seen, Harry thought. One moment she looked like her world was coming to an end and the next she was bouncing up and down singing some silly refrain. She was chaos. The moment he thought this he almost dropped on the spot. That was the exact thing she had said to Voldemort in his dream. Something was terribly wrong about all this. 


	6. Breakfast

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, names, characters and related indicia are copyright and trademark Warner Bros. But don't sue me, I'm not doing this for money. I know very well that J.K. Rowling is the one that created the characters I'm just borrowing them to see what I can do with them.  
  
Chapter 6 Breakfast  
  
When they entered the kitchen at her house, they were greeted by her mother, who was cooking breakfast. It smelled wonderful, and it made him remember he had not eaten anything all day yesterday.  
  
'Mom, this is Harry, our next door neighbour. You know, the one that was chased by the dog. Remember him?' She introduced him.  
  
'Yes, of course hello Harry, I'm Jane.' The woman greeted Harry.  
  
'A pleasure to meet you, ma'am.' He answered quickly. It felt strange; he wasn't one to have any friends in Little Whining.  
  
Her mom looked somehow like an older version of Spica. The same black hair with bluish shine their features were almost the same excepting the eyes that unlike Spicas were a normal blue, but that still didn't make them ordinary. The woman was about the age his mother would have been and this put a knot in his stomach.  
  
'Mom, where did you put my jeans?' A voice coming down the stairs called.  
  
'How could I know?' she responded.  
  
'You always know...' the girl stepped into the kitchen and set eyes on Harry. He had seen her yesterday.  
  
'Who are you?' she questioned.  
  
'Harry Potter.' He answered matter-of-factly.  
  
'Right', she answered simply, before turning to the take a seat at the table. The girl looked a lot like Spica with the exception of her hair, which was strawberry blond, and her eyes were sky blue.  
  
'That's my sister, Charon. Oh, and take a seat will you.' Spica informally introduced them. She took out the plates and placed them on the table. Harry wanted to help but instead sat down, obeying her command. A man entered the kitchen and the girl chorused 'Morning dad.'  
  
Harry could now see from where Charon had gotten her blond hair. Their dad had almost silver-blond hair, which reminded him of the Malfoys, but this man had nothing of the trademark Malfoy smirk. He was wearing an almost Lockhart-ish smile.  
  
'Morning girls and...who are you?' he questioned.  
  
'Harry...Harry Potter, sir.' Harry stood up so that his stool almost clattered to the floor.  
  
'See you already made friends.' He said, turning to his daughter. 'Nice to meet you Harry, I'm Jonathan Moore.'  
  
He also took a seat at the table. Harry felt a little odd sitting there; no one had asked him questions, they were being nice to him. It was almost like the Weasley family, though there weren't even half as many people in the kitchen, and the place was a lot tidier.  
  
Spica's mother filled all their plates with food, and just like Mrs. Weasley, she filled his plate to more than full, although Harry wasn't complaining; he was starving by now.  
  
'So, Harry, for how long have you been living here?' asked Jonathan.  
  
The interrogation had started; Harry didn't know if he was prepared for it. Would he be able to pass all the suspicious bits of his life unnoticed? 'Ever since I can remember'  
  
'Someone can actually live that long in this place? Where are we-n the very civilized middle of nowhere?' Charon said sarcastically.  
  
'Charon, please. What have I told you about' her mother scolded her.  
  
'Yea, yea, mum. All right, I'll just keep my thoughts to myself.' She grumbled.  
  
'Where do you go to school, Harry?' Mrs. Moore asked, dropping the bomb. Harry couldn't answer well, he was going to Hogwarts a school for witchcraft and wizardry. He also couldn't tell them he was going to Saint Brutus' School for Incurably Criminal Boys,l where the Dursley kept saying he went.  
  
When she didn't receive an answer straight away, she added. 'Is it near here? The girls aren't yet in any school, so I just wanted to know where I ought put them.'  
  
This made Harry a little less tense, and seemed to make the girls a little bit apprehensive. 'Mom please don't talk about school during breakfast, it'll ruin the rest of the day.' Said Spica.  
  
Charon's reaction was completely different; she jumped up from the table and ran up the stairs. Her outburst seemed to go unnoticed by the family. Strange family, Harry thought to himself.  
  
He enjoyed breakfast a lot. Mrs. Moore wasn't as good cook as Mrs. Weasley, but compared to the hostile atmosphere in the Dursley home towards him, this was something he could get used to fairly quickly.  
  
After breakfast, Spica told him she would like to invite him to her room, but she didn't know which one was hers yet, and, to tell the truth, there was no place in any of the rooms to sit. The floor still being covered with boxes and knicknacks. This gave Harry a reason to excuse himself and leave for "home". Even in his mind the word didn't loose the sarcastic edge it held.  
  
The welcome committee was waiting for him once he passed through the door at the Durlsey's. Uncle Vernon's horrible face was inches from his as he turned from the front door. But before the man started shouting at him, Ripper, who had waited patiently for him all this time on the front porch of the Moore's house, started growling at Uncle Vernon. Not even when Aunt Marge stepped in and tried to shoo the dog, he wouldn't budge from Harry's side. Seeing that there were having no effect on either Harry or the dog, Uncle Vernon sent him to his bedroom, threatening not to feed him for at least the next three days.  
  
During all this, Harry hadn't said a thing. His mind was somewhere else. So, he thought, the dog in his dream wasn't Snuffles. It was Ripper. He had been mistaken. It was just a dream after all, not one of Trelawney's bloody prophecies. Though to tell the truth, it was ten times better than one of those. He didn't know why this made him feel so bad, but it did. He was on the verge of crying. But he wouldn't cry, not now, it made no sense, he told himself.  
  
A.N.: well do you like it?  
  
I haven't received any reviews so I'm just going to assume that the story is so good that you can't find anything to comment on.  
  
Well still it would be nice to receive a small token of your appreciation in the form of a little review. So push that button now, don't be shy. 


	7. Voldemort shall strike

Disclaimer; most of the characters don't belong to me. They belong to J.K. Rowling  
  
Chapter 7  
  
Voldemort shall strike  
  
Harry dropped onto his bed. Now, more than ever, he wished he had a dreamless sleeping potion with him. That would help with all the nonsense he kept dreaming. But he wasn't going to fall asleep again, he resolved. After all, he did have homework to complete, and why wait till it was too late? Why not do it now? He opened his Hogwarts trunk and got all his books out, spreading them to all corners of his room. When he reached his potions book he threw it with considerable more force against the wall than he had with the others.  
  
The moment he touched his Defence Against the Dark Arts book, his scar hurt so much he almost blacked out. His knees buckled beneath him and he fell to his hands and kneed on the ground. He was sweating, and could feel his shirt getting damp. His breathing was ragged and he could feel his pulse beating irregularly.  
  
He couldn't really tell what Voldemort was feeling at the moment. He didn't know if he was ecstatic over something or enraged. It could have been a mixture of both.  
  
"She refused. She did not want to do his bidding. She would not be his servant. She would be punished for this. She would pay greatly for her foolishness. Nobody could defy the Dark Lord and live to tell the tale."  
  
Without realizing it, Harry heard the words echo in his tiny bedroom. Finally, he understood that he had said the words aloud, in a voice that resembled that of Professor Trelawney when foreseeing a true prophecy. That realization frightened him the most.  
  
What would the world say about this if it got out? Now that everybody finally believed what he was saying about Voldemort being back; he was loosing his marbles for real this time. He did not know what to do. Maybe he should send a letter to Dumbledore about this. He wished now more than ever that he had taken his Occlumency lessons seriously. It would have been easier. He would not have to go through these kind of trances. When he had finally got a hold of himself again, he took out a piece of parchment and scribbled on it.  
  
"Voldemort's not going to stay low anymore. He'll strike tonight or sometime soon."  
  
But then he thought about it a bit more. There was no reason to write to Dumbledore. The headmaster had his ways of knowing things like this. He had never depended on Harry to know what Voldemort's plans were. And just as Snape had told him on one of the evenings he had spent in his office learning Occlumency, what the Dark Lord was planning wasn't Harry's business; it was Snape's. He shredded the message letting the bits fall to the floor.  
  
He wasn't going to think about it. He wasn't going to worry about it. After all what good would it do? Hermione was right, he had a "saving people thing". But he could not take his mind of that vision. And a voice in the back of his head kept nagging him that all this had some strong connection with the dreams he had and that girl that kept appearing in them, with the neighbour girl. Once this thought passed his mind, he knew he was mental. There was nothing between this muggle girl and Voldemort, there couldn't be.  
  
He grabbed the book once again to study, but to no avail; he could never concentrate on trivial matters like homework now he knew the Dark Lord was going to show himself. The war had actually started. Don't think like this Harry kept saying to himself. Nothing good can come from it. The war had started long ago, if he thought about it, better yet, maybe it had never ended. They had to fight each battle, and win it. He slumped down his bed feeling exhausted.  
  
He was the one who had to win the war. He was the one who was had to destroy the Dark Lord. He was the one who had to become a murderer for fear of being a casualty. All this did nothing to improve his mood, or the headache that had lodged itself firmly behind his temples.  
  
A tray with some food on it was pushed through the pet door the Uncle Vernon had installed four years ago. The fact that none of the Dursleys wanted to bug him these last days made Harry feel almost a tad grateful to them. Almost. He knew Aunt Marge would have loved to torment him, though she had not done; he was sure the Dursleys had tried to keep her as far from him as possible, for fear of him loosing his temper and trying some curse on her. He had escaped so many times after doing that; they knew not to push their luck again.  
  
He wasn't hungry, so he just gave all his food to the dog, who still refused to leave his side. There was something comforting about Rippers' presence. Though Ripper looked nothing like Sirius's animagus, there was something about having this dog around that made him feel better. Thinking about this made Harry remember the humiliations he had suffered because of this very same animal. Even Snape knew about the time he had been chased into a tree, somehow, though, he could not be mad at the dog.  
  
Outside his window, the sun was high in the sky. It was a beautiful day yet Harry could not bring himself to go out. He could not find enough strength to move. And he did not have the mood to see all the happy faces that awaited him outside. He was becoming a grinch. If Ron could see him now, Harry knew he would have told him that all those lessons with Snape had rubbed off on him. Harry just couldn't stand seeing or being around something nice.  
  
He closed his eyes, but this did not help. The image of the girl in his dream, her piercing stare, those eyes, so deep; it all kept haunting him. She was going to die, he knew it, felt it, "wanted" it.  
  
Why wasn't he in the Order? Why wasn't he a member? What did it matter that he was not of age yet? He had stood in front of Voldemort and lived, more than anyone in that blasted order. He was the only one who could get rid of Voldemort, yet they did not think him old enough to be included. If they had told him about the Department of Mysteries and the Prophecy he wouldn't have gone there. He could have guessed it was a trap. Yet, through the veil of anger and rage, a small voice in the back of his mind told him it would have not been any better. He still would have been curious. He still would have gone and Sirius still would have died.  
  
It didn't matter if he proved over and over again to be brave and courageous if he was foolish and hot tempered. Snape had told him that fools who wear their hearts on their sleeve were not capable of withstanding the Dark Lord, yet that had been the one thing that had saved him. All these thoughts were increasing his pain. Just the thought of Snape made him nauseous.  
  
He was the only one guilty of it all. He, Snape, was responsible for Sirius's death. Knowing Snape, and the animosity he had towards his godfather he was sure that Snape would have danced on Sirius's grave, if only he had one. Harry was struck by the thought that Sirius didn't even have a grave. He had just disappeared from the face of the earth, gone through that veil, gone forever.  
  
Thinking of losing Sirius made him think of his parents as well. They hadn't died this way. Their bodies must have been buried somewhere. But where? He had never asked Dumbledore this.  
  
A.N.: like some of you have pointed out, this story has been here for quite some time, and now I've just made the chapters a lot smaller and am posting them again. And you are right.  
  
But since in those several months, I had not received more then one reviews, and since even my beta reader sort-of-like complained, that the chapters are too long, I decided to make them small, and extremely easy to read.  
  
For those of you who have already read this, you'll have to wait another ten chapters till you'll get something new.  
  
For those of you who are new to this story, well tuff luck, if you hadn't ignored me the first time, you would have known a lot more things about the events to happen.  
  
Still, I would like reviews, I love them, really. Push the button. 


	8. Home alone

Disclaimer: you all know the characters belong to J.K. Rowling, well not all of them, some of them are created by my own mind, but I still don't lay clame on them as they are inspired by books I have read, from "Little Red Riding Hood" to "Les Miserable".  
  
Chapter 8 Home alone  
  
Harry sat up, startled by sounds outside his room. It sounded like a heard of dragons being chased by some fire crabs. He cracked the door and peered outside. His cousin was going from one room to another, in search of things.  
  
'Big D' Harry said in a sweet voice 'could you pleas be a little more delicate? I don't want the floor to break beneath your feathery tread.'  
  
'Shut up, Potter. You'll make me late." Dudley snarled back.  
  
'Late? I didn't know you had a schedule for beating up six year olds.' Harry baited him.  
  
'Shut up, or you'll be the one beaten up. I'll be late for the party at Polkisses.' Dudley threatened.  
  
'What party?' Harry asked, mildly curious.  
  
'The party you're not invited to, of course. Now that I think about it, I'm sure you're the only one around here that's not going to be there.' His cousin taunted him.  
  
'Like I give a damn about any party you're attending.' Harry dismissed Dudley attempt to anger him.  
  
'Even the new girls, you know the ones that just moved next door? Even they're invited.' Dudley said, in a last attempt to get to Harry.  
  
It worked. Harry's heart sank. For the first time since his eleventh birthday he wished he was on one of the popular boys in the neighbourhood. Moreover, he wished he had been invited to the party. He was sure Spica wouldn't be interested in him anymore after the party. She would see how dull he was, how unliked, untrusted by the neighbours.  
  
What good was it to be The-Boy-Who-Lived in the wizarding world, when you were a nothing in front of the girl you liked? Well, Harry reasoned, he hadn't been able to impress Cho very well. It looked as if this was going to be the same. Anyway, once he was going back to school he wasn't going to see her anymore, he thought, it a pathetic attempt to cheer himself up.  
  
Before Dudley could brag anymore Harry turned around and closed the door, slumping on bed again. These last few days had been hell. They had passed so quickly without anything actually happening. That is, if a cute new girl moving in, Aunt Marge not leaving, and her dog moving in his room, could be considered nothing. Harry could not wait to be rescued from this place. He had no idea when that time would arrive, but thinking about that was far better than where his thoughts had previously strayed.  
  
About thirty minutes later, Harry heard the front door open, and Aunt Petunia give Dudley all sort of advices, while, Harry was sure, she arranged his bowtie. By now, Harry had managed to write about three inches of an essay about Goblin Riots "Why didn't wand legislation lead to better control of goblin riots? Discuss", he had not passed this subject, but it didn't make any difference, he still would write this essay.  
  
In another half hour the door to his bedroom opened. Looking up from his parchment and books, he saw Uncle Vernon standing in the door way.  
  
'Listen, boy, we're going out.' His uncle informed him.  
  
'Right.' Harry replied, only half-listening, his mind still turning over the effects on self-esteem public wand-snapping could have had on goblins.  
  
'We, that is to say your aunts and I, are going out. We're going to a restaurant.' His uncle continued.  
  
'By all means, leave. There's no reason to ask my permission.' Harry knew he had crossed the line, and not only a toe, but he had jumped it head first. Uncle Vernon was growing purple, muttering something about it not being up to Harry to decide anything of the sort. To Harry's extreme luck, Aunt Marge called after her brother to hurry up so Uncle Vernon had not the time to get any angrier. Instead, he lay out the rules.  
  
'You are not to live your bedroom.' He began.  
  
'Yeah. I won't. Don't worry.' Harry assured him.  
  
'And boy, if you leave like you did last summer, you can be sure there's no way you're coming back in this house. You understand me, boy?' Uncle Vernon said, raising his voice.  
  
'Yeah, next time I won't leave any note to assure you I'm safe.' Harry's last words were directed at the door as Uncle Vernon had already left.  
  
Harry heard the door lock and the car leave. He was still standing on the same spot. This all reminded him so much of the last year when he had been left alone. How the advance guard had come for him. How he had practically frozen on his Firebolt while riding it to London, how he had reached Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. How he had yelled at Ron and Hermione, and how Sirius had told him more than Dumbledore had, and everything else from the summer at headquarters.  
  
He tried to settle down and write some more on the Transfiguration essay he had started a weak ago, but it was impossible without Hermione's aid. Ripper whimpered at his feet, reminding Harry the dog was still here, waiting patiently, watching over Harry's every move.  
  
The animal had been indoors for all day. He must have to go out, Harry thought, so he and Ripper descended the stairs. As the door was locked, he jumped out from the living room window. Although the dog was fat, it jumped after him quite easily, nothing graceful, mind you, but quite impressive nonetheless. Harry and Ripper wandered aimlessly down the rows of houses. The dog was doing all sort of silly things, like running after his tail or picking sticks and running around with them in his mouth.  
  
Harry turned the corner into Magnolia Crescent, crossed it, and then turned onto Wisteria Walk. He was just walking aimlessly and didn't realise he was walking past Mrs. Figg's house until it was too late. Spotting one of her cats, Ripper forgot all about the branch he had been carrying for the past five minute, launching itself for the chase. Harry called him back, but there was no stopping him. Luckily for the cat, it was close to the house and ran inside through the cat door, which has too small for the Ripper, though it did not stop him from trying, which resulted in him getting stuck in Mrs. Figg's door.  
  
The old batty squib came out after freeing Ripper with well-placed broom thumps. She was very cross, but when she saw Harry, her bad mood vanished. Harry thought she looked as though seeing him safe and sound was a miracle.  
  
Though once again she invited him for a tea, Harry politely refused, saying he couldn't stay because of the dog. Once he and Ripper passed several more houses and were out of sight, Harry reached down and patted the dog on the head. That had been close.  
  
Over the course of his walk, he passed very close Polkiss' house. Luckily the music blaring was so loud that he realized he was nearing the house in time to turn onto Magnolia Road, instead of passing by the front door. He knew it would have been much too tempting, even for Dudley, to torment him in front of everybody. Dudley's honour would have to be upheld in front of that many people regardless of whether Harry had his wand, which Harry did; it was always in his back pocket, Harry ignoring Moody's warning of a buttockless life.  
  
No, Harry was in no mood for tantrum at the moment and he was going to avoid the possibility at all costs. Be careful and don't do anything rash... that had been Sirius's advice and although Sirius himself had not cared too much about this, Harry knew better.  
  
Finally, once the animal had calmed down, Harry got back to his aunt and uncle's house, and went in through the same window. He didn't care if the neighbours saw him sneaking in like this. It was, after all, his home. And it wouldn't have surprised them at any rate. After all, he was a hardened hooligan who attended St. Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys.  
  
It was already dark when he returned home, but he did not bother to turn the lights on. Ever since he was little, Harry had been accustomed to darkness because of all those days spent in the cupboard under the stairs. Getting to his room, he lay on the bed as he had grown accustomed. Thoughts kept coming into his mind, thoughts so dark and forbidding like only a Dementor's presence could stir up. But there were none around. It was just his mind growing wilder by the day.  
  
Special thanks to my beta reader who made this story readable, and added some nice bits.  
  
And thanks to those who review. And, no, for those who have already read the story in the original format (few, extremely long, hard to read chapters) I won't have new chapters for quite some time, my beta reader is still working on my former chapter 2 and 3. 


	9. The power that can leave you powerless

Disclaimer: the characters belong to J.K. Rowling, except for the few ones that belong to me.  
  
Chapter 9 The Power that Can Leave You Powerless  
  
There was a gathering. All the death eaters were crowded around their master. Their numbers had diminished by Dumbledore and the Order but they were enough to cause havoc. This was a special meeting. They were planning something, something awful. Harry was there in the middle. And he was filled with contempt about what was going to happen. Dumbledore was smart, but not smart enough. He was the one who would have the last word. This was just a small token of appreciation for those who were loyal to that old fool. All of them had been too foolish to actually believe him the strongest, but he was going to prove them wrong. They had believed Dumbledore could save their petty lives, well, they were wrong.  
  
His reign of terror was once again coming. Hell was going to break free again and there was nothing his enemies could possibly do to stop him. Followed by his servants he appeared in a muggle alley. On a sign Harry read Privet Drive. That is when he realized it all. Voldemort was coming after him. With a flick of the wand Harry had all the lights off. They all moved swiftly, concealed by night's veil. Harry recognized the house in front of which they stopped. It was his house, Number 4. So, Voldemort was coming to kill him and more than sure that this dream was just a way for Voldemort to control him. Maybe Voldemort planned to kill him while Harry was watching the scene from the murderer's perspective. He tried to wake up but all these were stronger than dreams. He could not control anything here. He watched as all the Death Eaters had gathered again around their lord and then they turned... to his surprise, towards the other house. The Moore's house.  
  
What did he have with some ordinary muggles? That is when it hit him. They weren't ordinary muggles. They must have been witches. His dreams of the last couple of nights must have been true.  
  
The door was locked when he tried to open it and he could feel a strong power denying him entrance. With a swish of the wand it all disappeared and he entered the house. The flood of people that followed him quickly filed the room. Some noises were heard coming down the stairs. The squeaking stopped, on the last steps of the stairway stood a tall dark-haired woman. Her eyes, so blue and deep were the same of the girls in Harry's dreams. She was one and the same person. Now when her eyes fell on Voldemort again after almost twenty years he could see the same loathing and pity. Next to her stood a man, her husband.  
  
Before the man could say or do a thing he had been killed by Bellatrix who stood next to her master. For once the cruel black witch had not tortured her victim, making it a clean death.  
  
The blue eyed woman had not flinched. It was as if nothing had happened. Or maybe it was that had been too predictable.  
  
'I was waiting for you, Tom Riddle.' She did not pay any attention to the others. The only one that got her utmost attention was Voldemort. As always she did not fear him. She could not fear by her nature.  
  
'Still you will not yield to me I see.' It was always hard to keep control when those blue eyes were on him. Dumbledore had not held that power over him, not even as his teacher in his school days.  
  
'Spirits do not have masters. Power cannot be possessed. Will cannot be broken.' She had kneeled next to her husband corpse. She could feel the life leaving him. She looked him once more in those eyes that had lost their shine. With her hand she slid the eyelids shut.  
  
'Maybe, but flesh will have to bear the sorrow of your spirit.' He could see that beneath her calm exterior she was moaning. He had never known her capable of feeling affection towards anyone and yet now every particle of her body was screaming for release.  
  
'All your little tricks are not what truth magic is all about. If you had listened to me the first time you would now be the greatest sorcerer and not Albus Dumbledore.'  
  
'Albus Dumbledore, the greatest sorcerer. My little salamander you still have such high ideals. I will be quite downhearted by having to dispose of you. But, nevertheless, your presence is of no use to me so you must be destroyed.'  
  
At his words she broke eye contact; the most unusual thing was happening to her. Something that had never happened before. She was crying. Not the usual sand fleck that a witch could shed, but real tears. She was a human now. But still her powers were greater than those of the fraud before her. She stood up and her eyes were burning fire now.  
  
'You fool. All these years have not thought you yet that death is not the worst thing. Too weak to admit there are things far more terrible. Death is not enough for destroying a man. But you don't know that do you?' she was looking more fierce than she had before and yet she was more vulnerable than ever.  
  
'Be quiet. I did not come here for sermons.' He could not tolerate her defying him in front of all his servants, when it was clear as day she was in no position to threaten.  
  
'No, you came hear to relive me of it all... And I thank you for that.' At these last words spoken by the woman he could not take it anymore and although he knew it would not work he uttered the killing curse. He knew from experience, it would not hit her. He knew she was too strong for it. He even feared it would backfire. But it didn't. It hit her and a green halo was formed around her, she fell to the floor in mere seconds.  
  
'Love is the greatest power and yet it can leave you powerless.' she uttered with her last gasp. The woman sprawled lifelessly on the ground, looking like a broken rag doll whilst the green light did not fade so quickly, it still glowed for almost five minutes. However he did not wait for it to vanish. Followed by his death eaters Voldemort left the house and personally set the house on fire while Bellatrix set the dark mark, in the sky over the flaming house. With a few sharp cracks they were all gone, leaving nothing but pain and sorrow behind them.  
  
A.N: thanks for the reviews, though they were few.  
  
I can't post more often at the moment, as I have a lot of projects at school and also a bad case of writers block.  
  
And I have one little question: what is your opinion on the stories were Sirius is coming back? Honest opinion. 


	10. floonetwork

Disclaimer: ok ok...I know that: Harry Potter, names, characters and related indicia are copyright and trademark Warner Bros. But don't sue me, I'm not doing this for money I'm doing this just so that my mom can yell at me that I should turn of the computer and do my homework. I know very well that J.K. Rowling is the one that created the characters I'm just borrowing them to see what I can do with them. Also I have used lyrics that also don't belong to me so don't sue for that either. Him- Heartache Every Moment.  
  
Chapter 10 Floo-network  
  
Harry woke up and opened his eyes. There was a lot of noise coming from outside. He looked through the window; the view that greeted him was one of absolute chaos. The house in front of him was on fire, people were gathering all around, sirens could be heard from not afar. High above in the sky, not unnoticed by the crowd, the dark mark shone brightly green.  
  
So, it was true, Harry thought. It was all true. He had not dreamed, he had been once again in Voldemort's mind while he did his bidding. He could not believe he had been powerless to save them. He had been a few feet away yet he had not been able to do a thing.  
  
He got down quickly, not having to dress, since he'd stayed in the same clothes for the past two days. The firemen had arrived and were trying to extinguish the fire. As it was a magical one, water did nothing to diminish its strength, it mainly to just make it stronger. People from all over were coming to ogle. Harry managed to get as close as possible.  
  
So this is how it had have been, to see the house just next to yours with the dark mark above it. So this is what they all feared. And it was up to him to rid them of this pure evil.  
  
From ashes to ashes And from lust to dust In your sweetest torment I'm lost And no heaven can help us Ready, willing and able To lose it all It was Spica. She was standing less than a few feet away, next to her sister. Because of the flames, he could see their faces as clear as in day. They were blank. Just like their mother, they showed no sign of emotion. He could not believe it.  
  
When he had seen Cedric die he would have broke into tears had it not been for the desperate situation, yet they were just standing there looking calm at their burning house, the bodies of their parents inside.  
  
He didn't know what to do. Go and say something to her, or just let her go through her strange grieving, he was debating in his head. He was just to go to her when a large number of powerful bangs were heard all around. He glanced about; all around witches and wizards in ministry robes were appearing. He turned his head to see what was happening next. That's when his gaze locked with Spicas'. His scar hurt more than it had all night. The urge to throw himself at her, to bear his teeth into her was overwhelming yet her eyes, so similar to her mothers, and yet not quite as bright, kept him on his spot.  
  
Rapidly, the ministry personnel began clearing the crowd.  
  
'Wotcher, Harry.' A familiar voice called from behind, startling him. He turned his head so fast he almost cricked his neck. Before a he could say anything, the deep voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt asked from behind.  
  
When did you meet Mr. Potter, Tonks?' it was a plain question but Harry knew it was really a warning for Tonks to behave as if they hadn't met.  
  
'Not once, but what more is wanting? He's got the scar, the black hair, green eyes, that's him isn't it?' she covered, in her jovial manner. While the others Aurors were dealing with the damages, Mr. Weasley, who had appeared with the others, pulled Harry to a side.  
  
"Go back to the house. The hearth has been connected to the floo-network for a little while. Here have some floo powder. Meet you at the headquarters.' He gave a glance around seeing if they were spied upon. No one was paying them any attention. 'You just have to say "Black House". Now, get going.'  
  
Mechanically, Harry followed Mr. Weasley's orders. He did not look back once. He did not want to see the image that was going to haunt his nightmares from now on. At least it would, if Voldemort backed off a little, to give him time for some dreams of his own.  
  
In the hearth there was a green fire crackling. Harry stepped in, uttering the words 'the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black'. Once he got through the rough traveling, he ended up sprawled undignified on the kitchen floor with the whole Weasley clan over him, including Percy. Looks like the middle Weasley was finally back with his own.  
  
A.N.: Hope at least somebody is reading this cause I lost a lot of time writing it. the next chapters are not yet beta-read, but I have at least ten more chapters finished, from then on Harry gets back to school and it will be harder to write as I will... well let's not divulge all the secrets yet. From then on ideas are more than welcomed for pranks and adventures to happen.  
  
And what would you think if I wanted to bring Sirius back? I can develop the plot with or without him, but I had some nice scenes in mind in case I'm bringing him back. I think it would make the story funnier. Well please answer this question. 


	11. party hooray

Disclaimer: I don't own the character, they belong to J.K. Rowling. Spica is not a Mary Sue no matter what you think.  
  
A.N.: I've changed the point of view. And the action currently told takes place a couple of hours before the events of the last chapter.  
  
CHAPTER 11  
  
Party hooray  
  
Lately I've been walking, walking in circles Watching waiting for something Feel me, touch me, feel me Come take me higher  
  
'Spica, shut up and come down.' A hurried Charon called while going down the stairs. 'We don't want to be late, now do we?'  
  
Spica came down the stairs, jumping the last four or five steps. 'Actually, you know, I don't care.' She had changed from her loose clothes into tighter garb, overly tight for some people. It was composed of a black top without straps. Over it she wore a black mesh blouse. She was also wearing a skirt, very short white one, which contrasting strongly with her black top and equally black socks, going up to her knees. She wore a pair of boots that seemed a little strange for a muggle. (No wonder, as they were dragon hide).  
  
'Yea, but I do. We're going to live here for a while, so I want to know who else lives here.' Charon tried to get her own hair to stay right, but it was useless, her hair had ideas of its own, and wouldn't let her do anything to it. Unlike her sister, Charon was dressed in a lavender blouse, and was wearing a lovely pink skirt.  
  
'Yeah, who lives in who-ville? The only reason I'm going is because otherwise mum and dad wouldn't have let you go.' Spica was making faces while her sister was putting on her high heeled shoes. Spica hated them more than anything in the world; she just could not believe somebody would willingly wear such a device of torture. Didn't they know it was bad for the backbone?  
  
'I know. Just move.' Picking up a scarf Charon pushed her sister out the door.  
  
'Bye mum, bye dad.' They chorused as passing through the doorframe. There was a quiver in Charon's voice. But when her sister asked her why she just answered it was because of the breeze that hit her when stepping out the threshold.  
  
There was no breeze whatsoever. Not even the slightest gust of wind. The hitch in her voice had been because of the hurricane of emotions whirling inside her. She knew it was the last time she would see her parents. Well, she amended, see them alive, standing next to her. It wasn't long before they would be gone. But she could not do anything about it. She knew it, and could not do a thing about it.  
  
This was the worst part about being a seer, she thought miserably. It was cool when she could cheat on tests, but it was nasty when she knew something bad would happen and she weren't supposed to do anything about it. Even to know her parents were going to die and not be allowed to warn them was plain cruel. She was standing still as a statue almost crying there on the front porch.  
  
'Hey sis' weren't you in a hurry? Why suddenly stop and moan.' Spica complained.  
  
'What?' said Charon, shaking her head, 'Nothing' she answered. She had to be strong. Power did not come to the weak. The weak could not use power. She had to be stronger than this. It was all just another step towards the completion of a greater purpose. She released a breath she did not realize she was holding. With a force coming from deep inside she managed to make her eyes twinkle with mirth instead of that gloomy glow that they had assumed.  
  
'Right. Let's go. Maybe we'll find lover-boy there.' since Spica had invited Harry to the house for breakfast Charon couldn't stop herself from exasperating her sister.  
  
'Will you cut it out? You know better then I that there is nothing, and that nothing may be.' Spica bit back.  
  
Both of them remained silent for a moment.  
  
'So tell me again were are we going.' Spica had never liked to socialize much. She had a steady group of friends with which she was more than close. She had no real desire for new friends.  
  
'Polkisses' Charon had gotten the invitation from the Polkisses' bratty girl. Charon had despised from the first moment their eyes met, but she had to be out of the house one way or another, and this was a perfect excuse.  
  
'Right. And who they are, would be my next question.' Spica was in the mood for long detailed interrogatories and Charon had to stand all her irritating questions. Why did she have a sister? She mused. Wouldn't it have been easier if she had a dog?  
  
'Our neighbours.' She was getting a bit exasperated and her tone was starting to show it.  
  
'Really, I would have never guessed. You know you're starting to annoy me. And I have a strange feeling that all those idiots at the party will accomplish the same thing. Maybe I shouldn't even go.' Spica made a move to turn around, but her sister caught her by the arm.  
  
'NO... I mean no I won't. Look, I'll stop. Just relax. You'll see. We'll have fun.'  
  
'Yeah. I have a strange felling the only things we'll hear there will be Gareth Gates and Blue.'  
  
'Oh come on stop complaining.' Charon scolded. Would you rather die by the hands of that voldye-thingie? She thought desperately.  
  
Some other A.N.: thank you all for your wonderful reviews. Don't worry I can take a bit of criticism, and I know my grammar and spelling aren't the best. Sorry.  
  
Thank you for the reviews. It was nice. And trust me about the part with the long chapters. All 10 chapters that you have read formed chapter 1. So that by any standards was long chapters. And I would have left them that way if I had received any reviews.  
  
Now of course I have exaggerated a bit when I shortened them up but this is me I always take things to extremes. 


	12. party of the dead

Disclaimer: the characters belong to J.K. Rowling.  
  
Chapter 12 Party of the dead  
  
They passed into Magnolia Crescent where they could already hear the loud music. Here they passed by a batty old woman that was uttering something about noisy children disturbing the peace coupled with a comment about lack of respect for the elderly.  
  
'Hey. Isn't that the lady that talked to mum to days ago about Potter and the Order stuff?' Charon asked, looking at the completely identical lawns they were passing as they moved down the block.  
  
'Think so. She's a little paranoid if you ask me.' Spica instead was kicking marbles along the walk, seeing how far they would go before veering off into the grass. 'Who isn't around here? Last year a couple of dementors attacked the Potter boy.' It was really a shock that there wasn't a whole guard around the house. She knew that there was always a member of the Dragon, or whatever that order was called, but there had to be something else, like a powerful charm that protected the boy against Voldemort. Or so she thought.  
  
'Dementors... speaking of them,' Charon said. 'They are close aren't they? You can feel them also can't you Spica?' An eerie silence fell between the two girls. Suddenly, they both could feel the dementors. It wasn't because of the dread they inflicted on mere people. It was some kind of attraction between the two different natures. They shook their heads simultaneously. 'Well, this is the house.' Charon said.  
  
'Like it was necessary for you to tell me. I can hear the house.' Spica made a face and tried to pull away.  
  
'You weren't expecting rock were you?' it was exasperating to be a babysitter for your older sister.  
  
'I had my hopes... let me take just one last breath of peace and then we go in.' she was acting so much like the spoilt brat she was.  
  
'Oh, stop whining. What would Aunty say?' she knew that reminding her of the glorious past of their family and of their principles was going to help.  
  
'Oh shut up, you know she liked noise. Last year she kept yelling so hard in her other picture that we could hear her in our house.' It had been to say the least disturbing to hear her shouts, of filthy mudbloods, monsters, bastards, and other things like this, especially when she had friends around.  
  
'Well she was a little sensible about her house. Now, get in and don't embarrass me.' She tugged at her sleeve.  
  
'Hey, watch it. I'm the older sister, if you forgot.' Just the spoilt brat reaction she was expecting. She just got behind her and pushed her up the stairs.  
  
'Shut up.' With one last push they were both on the front porch. Charon knocked on the door and soon they were surrounded by a mass of people unknown to both of them. Some Spica had seen during the past few days, but most were unknown even to Cherry who had tried to make as many friends as possible in the short time.  
  
It was proving to quickly be one of the worst parties they had attended. There wasn't much to do and the company was pathetic. All of the guys were the ones Spica had seen surrounding that meatball of a cousin, Diddykins, as Harry loved to taunt him. A shame Harry himself wasn't here. But she couldn't blame him for not associating with such lame excuses for humankind.  
  
It was near the ending of the party when they both felt it. Panic, dread. Then nothing, blank.  
  
They did not understand what it meant until someone shouted near them. 'Hey look at that strange firework', everybody rushed to the windows or out onto the front porch. What they saw took their breath away. In the air glowed the emerald green skull with a snake coming out of its mouth. When the two sisters saw this they did not even bother to get out of the house or try not to be seen, they just disaparated from the crowd, reappearing at the front lawn of their house.  
  
A crowd of people had already formed, they had a difficult time squeezing through all the people. They got as close as they could. The sight was devastating. The house was burning, flames illuminating the faces of the people, giving them a devilish glow. Both girls knew what had happened. Charon looked at the people around; they were unsuspecting muggles, not even aware of the war that had started in the wizard world, a war that was going to affect their world as well soon enough. Spica, on the other hand, was looking somehow through the house not really seeing it, and singing one of those oh, so depressing songs.  
  
With several loud bangs, a number of Aurors appeared around them, trying to discern the cause of all the commotion. They were trying to magically put out the fire and get rid of the people, Obliviating them and sending them on their way.  
  
One of the aurors, a young woman, came in their direction, but first addressed herself to an unruly black-haired boy in front of them whom Spica quickly recognized as Harry. He left to talk to another auror and the woman came towards them, her wand out. Before either girl had time to stop her, she quietly cast a spell.  
  
Unlike usual people, or even normal witches, this charm had no effect on either of them. It merely bounced of, hitting an old lady. Not only did it not affect them, it also seemed to wake them both from their reverie, and most important of all, it got Spica in one of her tantrum moods. Oh brother, well sister, this was going to be a long night, Charon sighed inwardly.  
  
'What do you think you're doing? Obliviate me! No kidding... who are you anyway, don't you think you are a bit young to be fooling around as an Auror?' the attempted spell had clearly gotten Spica into attack mode. She would not finish the chase until the poor auror was frighten out of her skin.  
  
'You know... I mean, you're a witch?' the young woman said, confused.  
  
'Course I'm a witch. Just like my parents. Who seem ...to be...dead.' Spica then turned to her sister, with a look of pure disgust. 'You knew it. You knew it all a long.'  
  
This was what she dreaded. Charon knew Spica would accuse her of this, and she knew she had to be careful with handling the situation if she didn't want to end duelling her. 'Spica, calm down.'  
  
'Calm down?!' she began to scream. 'You're telling me to calm down when our parents are dead. When you knew all along about this and you did not do a thing for them.'  
  
'Spell, you're being selfish' Charon said quietly. Spica's chest heaved. It hurt to have someone say out loud what her mind was screaming at her.  
  
'Selfish...selfish. Oh, go out of space.' She said turning to stare at the burning flames, a million thoughts going through her mind, most of them set on revenge and destruction.  
  
'Spell, it was meant to be.' The sky blue eyes locked to the ink like ones. 'Mom knew about it too. And she did nothing.'  
  
'I know. That's what makes it harder.' Spica took another look at the blazing house. 'I am never going to understand your atypical logic.' She was referring to the seer's rule not to tell the future.  
  
'You're not supposed to, you know. Order is not supposed to be in your world.' Charon answered.  
  
'Well you should have told that to mom each time she wanted me to clean up my room.' They both laughed weakly at the joke. But then stopped. Looking around, they noticed all the aurors were staring at them.  
  
'Are you alright? You know, you still have a lot of cleaning and memory erasing, so don't let us interfere with you work.' They spoke to the stunned wizards and witches.  
  
A.N. A few chapters before, Harry was talking to Tonks, and Shacklebolt comes in and asks Tonks how come she knows Harry. Now, yes Kinsley Shacklebolt was there when the advance guard came to get Harry to the headquarters, but this was illegal business the ministry did not know about it. While this time the place was filled with Aurors that were not in the Order, maybe even with spies of You-know-who. So that's why he acted like that. I clearly stated it in the story. It was a warning for her to behave as if they hadn't met.  
  
I hope everybody understood that.  
  
Also thanks to my reviewers, and look it's about three lines longer than my other chapters. I'm on holyday now, but though this usually means more free time, in my case it means I leave for grandmothers' house, and there I don't have a computer, so it's going to be hard to post any new chapters. Hope I can ask my friend, or go to an internet café, don't worry I'll post at least one chapter every other week. 


	13. Bumblebee

Disclaimer: the characters don't belong to me, they belong to J.K. Rowling.  
  
Chapter 13 Bumblebee  
  
'Are you alright?' the woman asked her. Spica could now see her bubblegum pink hair. It was a sickening site for her eyes.  
  
'Yes' they replied, not really paying attention to the people, paying more attention to the energies emanating from the ground.  
  
'Well, you're not supposed to...' she said in a tone that bothered them both.  
  
'What?' they both turned glaring at her.  
  
'Well, your parents just died, murdered to be exact, and you have nothing better to do than talk about how messy your room was.' she sounded scared, as though supremely worried for them both.  
  
'Look bubble head, it's not our fault we're not hysterical, understood?' Charon's tone contradicted her sentence, but her eyes and posture were not threatening...yet.  
  
'Nymphadora, I'll take on from here.' A deep voice from behind them boomed.  
  
Both the girls turned to face the man. He was a tall man, very old, if one could believe the white beard and hair. He looked at them over the top of his half moon spectacles. His eyes were blue and the fire gave them an odd twinkle. He looked ancient yet he did not seem senile.  
  
'Suppose you're Bumblebee, or what ever your name is.' Spice was getting bored of all these people intruding in her life and thoughts. This wizard was actually trying Legilimency on her. Fool, she scoffed. He actually thought he could penetrate her mind.  
  
'I am Albus Dumbledore.' He gave her half a smile, though his eyes did not change their expression. For several seconds the man kept gazing in Charon's eyes. She knew what he was doing. He was using Legilimency, trying to read her mind. But it was practically impossible to read her. Not even the most skilled wizard could understand how her mind worked.  
  
'Miss Grey, I have come here to take you and your sister to a safer place.' His expression was grave, showing how concerned he was. Although the girls were asking themselves if the cause wasn't the proximity between their house and that of the Dursleys, the house in which Harry Potter lived.  
  
'Hard to believe there's a place safer than this.' She muttered under her breath, but followed the old mage nevertheless.  
  
The man picked up a bottle from the damp grass and uttered a spell on it. 'Take this, I'll be there in a moment, wait for me.'  
  
Both sisters touched it together, knowing it was a portkey. They weren't overly accustomed to them, as it wasn't the way most American witches travel. It was pretty rough, but not nearly as rough as using a floo, at least from the reports they'd received.  
  
After the dizziness passed away and they were able to open their eyes, they were amazed at their surroundings. It was a large circular office, with portraits of sleeping wizards, with heads lolling back and forth. It was full of delicate silver instruments, puffing and whirring on spindle-legged tables. Near the door a magnificent red and gold bird, the size of a turkey, stood on its perch eying the two girls.  
  
'Wow, a phoenix, this is wicked.' Spica said. She then started talking to it in a melodious language that if she would have tried to understand she was sure she could.  
  
While her sister kept inspecting Dumbledore's office, often questioning one of the pictures that seemed to have wakened up from all the commotion, Charon took seat near the window where she could look out and see the Quidditch pitch in the light of the moon. It was the waxing moon that held her attention. It had a blood red hallo around it, a true sign of tragedy.  
  
She curled up tighter, bringing her feet under hers. It wasn't because of cold, although she had to admit it was a lot chillier here than in Surrey. She sat there gazing at the grounds. She was sure this had to be Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She had read so much about this place in Hogwarts, a History that she could not mistake it for anything else. A long, long time ago her ancestors had learned here, some of them had even taught here.  
  
A noise from behind made her turn around. Her sister had somehow smashed one of the strange silvery contraptions decorating the office. She wasn't sure if it was out of clumsiness or on purpose. Charon did not have time to ponder on this as one of the pictures on the wall caught her attention. One of the figures was distinctly familiar to her. Phineas Nigelus. She had seen the same picture of his adorning the walls of her aunt's house.  
  
So she was right. This confirmation did not change her state in any way. She still had to remind herself that this was real. She had dreamed of this day so many times that she could not distinguish now between what was happening and what she knew from her dreams. She had grown used to her prophetic dreams. She had, after all, grown up with them. It was just that usually the tragedies she witnessed were distant things that had nothing to do with her. But this time, as she kept repeating this to herself, mom would not come to her in the morning and tell her it had been just a dream. Although both of them had the gift they still did not like to address them as being more than dreams.  
  
She had known of this. Her mother had known all along they were coming after her and she had done nothing to stop them. So why did she have to feel so guilty for not doing something. She could not do something, Charon reminded herself. She was not allowed to do anything. It had all been a prophecy and one could not reveal the future, one could not change it. The future was there for it to happen and no matter what Spica would say, there was no one with the power to change what has been written for people. Charon's eyes closed. It was late and all the commotion had tired her. She would love nothing more than to curl up in her bed. Then it hit her. She did not have a bed anymore. She did not have a house anymore. And the worst of it, she did not have parents anymore.  
  
She could not understand why it seemed almost as a surprise to her.  
  
Charon looked again at her sister who was still talking to the phoenix. Talking didn't quite describe it, it more like they were singing a duet. Spica was taking it all a lot better than she was. She knew they were not supposed to feel anything and yet she could not stop herself. For probably the first time in her life she wished she could cry like everybody else. For a second she wished she was human. But she wasn't, she was a witch, and not in the normal way like all Hogwarts students thought about themselves, but in the I'm-curse-to-have-a-heart-of-stone, no ability to love and incapable of crying or blushing for the matter.  
  
A.N. I got this idea from a movie I saw some time ago. Witches could not cry, or blush, they were practically incapable of feeling extreme emotions, and they could also have cats and could command them to do things like spying on people by humming to them.  
  
Thank you for your reviews, I appreciate them greatly. And thanks for all your support guys. (well more like girls, but never mind.) 


	14. Verus

Chapter 14  
  
Verus  
  
Emerald green flames erupted in the fireplace and from them Albus Dumbledore unfolded himself. He at first did not speak to either of them but went to the perch and told the bird to fetch someone called Severus Snape. He also talked to the painting of Phineas Nigelus telling him to announce visitors.  
  
While Charon was supervising Dumbledore's every move, her sister found a put-outer on a table and began playing with it, lighting a candle by blowing in it and then putting out the candle with the put-outer.  
  
'You are Spica Catherine Grey and Charon Lillian Moore.' He finally spoke to them in a tired voice. The girls had different names because their mother had wished to have one of them carry on her family name since she had no brothers. She had married only after giving birth to Spica.  
  
Dumbledore looked carefully from one girl to the other. They also were looking him straight in the eyes. Unlike another student of their age that had been in this office, not a long time ago after the lost of someone very dear, as their parents must have been, they did not look in any way disgruntled, they were calm. He could almost call it serene, like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.  
  
'I wish I could say I know how you feel, but I don't. You, unlike the rest of us, cannot feel pain.' He took seat behind the desk. After a moment he spoke again. 'I do not know if your reaction is caused by the shock. I do not know if this is weakness or strength.'  
  
'Shock' muttered Charon under her breath. What he had just said was ridiculous. How could she be shocked when something she knew was going to happen did? 'It is a curse, as we all seem to know.' Spoke Charon. She had never in her life wished more that she wasn't a Grey. That she was one of the dammed Grey women. She knew all too well their story. 'We can't feel emotions...not like the rest of you. If we do, and when we do, we lose our powers. That's what the curse says.'  
  
'We are not here to talk about an ancient curse that has led to the misfortune of many from your family, but about a more recent misfortune. I believe you all understand the consequences of this recent turn of events.'  
  
'What are you talking about, Headmaster.' It was strange that Spica wasn't saying a thing all this time, but Charon had to get to the bottom of all of this one way or another. She had her suspicions, she had seen many things in her mind, but just like Legilimency, it was hard to put all the pieces of the puzzle in the right order. More often than not she could not do it. Prophecies were not just in the form of pretty little riddles. Usually she would see it all in a dream, with lots of details. And she had seen lots of things that were to be and yet she could not understand. The past and the future kept jumbling.  
  
The door suddenly opened and a tall black-clad figure appeared in the room. It was a man who looked straight to the head master, not even acknowledging the presence of the two girls. It wasn't so much the presence of the man that made an impact over Charon but the man's clothing. She had seen those robes so many times in her dreams. Men cloaked in them plagued her nightmares. She immediately knew what he was and she could not understand for the life of it what he was doing here. After all it was obvious to everybody what he was.  
  
Mors mordre. She did not realize she had spoken this words until both men's eyes were locked to her. The old wizard had a kind of understanding, and something edging to despair. The other man's was blank upon first glance. This did not keep her from seeing the surprise, intrigue, and if she was not exaggerating, perhaps guilt, in them. But all this did not impress her as much as the odd familiarity she felt towards those obsidian eyes. She knew immediately she had seen them before somewhere...sometime. And then it hit her.  
  
Verus it was the second time she had spoken out loud what she was thinking, without actually meaning to. And just like before it scared the goblins out of the two wizards. The shocked became even more evident than the firs one on the younger dark wizard. His face had gone paler although it was already pale. He looked into her eyes that somehow reminded him of her. But she was dead, had died less than an hour before.  
  
'This is Severus Snape...' the headmaster eyed his robes with a reproachful look; Severus could have at least changed from his death eaters clothes. 'Our potions master.'  
  
Charon snorted at this while Spica asked in a vexed tone. 'And what does he have in common with us? Other than the fact than he is one of the people that participated in the murder of my parents?'  
  
When turning to see who had spoken Severus received an even greater shock, it was as if the ground had fled from under his feet. He looked paler than death. For a moment Cherry thought he was going to faint right there on the spot, yet he was a lot stronger than that.  
  
'I'm afraid it all connects my dear. As I was saying before Severus interrupted us, the events of tonight will have many implications in your future life.' Dumbledore said quietly.  
  
'How?' They both asked in unison.  
  
'My dears, as you know, both your parents have died, leaving you orphans.' The looks on the girls faces told him it they did not appreciate the superior tone of his words. He continued in an even tone. 'You are both not of age yet.'  
  
At this, Spica burst out 'All the paper work involving our transfer has been done so I don't see the problem.'  
  
'I was not talking merely of the transfer, but in general. You both need a guardian until you are of age.'  
  
'You're joking right? How could I need a guardian when in a few months I'll be of age?' she hated the idea of someone interfering in her life.  
  
'I know my dear but these are the rules.' He made a pregnant pause and then in a quiet voice continued.' I know of the existence of two aunts can take on the role of guardian for Charon and as for you...'  
  
'As for me what?' she interrupted, not letting the headmaster finish his statement. 'What is your game, old man? Who could be my guardian?' She asked, a smirk on her face.  
  
The dark haired man narrowed his eyes, while Dumbledore did not seem to acknowledge the girls rebuke and continued. 'As for you, Miss Spica Catherine Grey, and I might add, Snape there is no need for a guardian as your father is very much alive.' 


	15. Child

Chapter 15  
  
Child  
  
The room grew silent. All eyes were locked on the elder wizard as he magicked a piece of parchment from thin air.  
  
'It is a wizarding birth certificate' he said, handing it to the vexed girl. He continued in a more meaningful voice. 'Wizarding birth certificates never lie, Spica.'  
  
She looked only at the top of the parchment where her name and that of her parents were written. The name was written, there, in black letters her name, Spica Catherine Grey Snape was clearly written, and on the right were her parents names. The first word she read was her father's name, Snape Severus, beneath it her mothers Grey Juno. 'Juno' she muttered. Her mother had always hated this name but this is how all her relatives would address her. To the muggles she had been known as Jane.  
  
'I know this might seem confusing, child, but this was her real name. She only used Jane in the muggle world.' The old man's tone was soothing which unnerved both girls. They at least knew their mother's name.  
  
'I know that, you senile dodo head.' She sounded a tad infuriated. 'It's just that she hated it. Are you meaning to tell me that I do not need to worry, because daddy's here to save me?' She than turned to Snape. 'And do you expect me to call you daddy, or something?'  
  
Snape's small bank of patience was almost overdrawn. The girl had no respect for her elders, another thing that made her so much like her mother.  
  
'Spica, I can understand you have gone through a lot and your nerves are on the edge.' The Headmaster attempted to calm the girl.  
  
'You think I'm a bit cranky because of what happened tonight Albus?' she said, deliberately using his first name. 'Well, I am. I'm more than cranky, and all of you have gone too far. You make me sick.' She took a pause, trying to calm down a little just to have a better control over her powers but it was hopeless; she resorted to shouting again.  
  
'You stand there looking at me as if I'm something to be pitied. You morons, you are the ones to be pitied. You feel more grief for people you haven't seen in decades than I feel for my own parents.' Her eyes were darkening as was her mood.  
  
'Miss Grey, please try to understand. We have your best interests in mind. You need someone to protect you.' Dumbledore, patient though he was, was getting tired of dealing with enraged adolescents, though even in her outrage she had more sense than more older wizards, and could control herself far better.  
  
'Fool. I don't need anyone to protect me, I'm here to protect others.' Spice shouted, her deep eyes looking like a stormy ocean.  
  
'It is not the time to discuss your special powers.' He tried to calm her down, but it was to no avail.  
  
'It's as good as any time, if you ask me!' she yelled. 'I don't give a damn about Fudge and the laws he has passed. I don't give a flying carp of the supposable father I have. As far as I'm concerned my parents died tonight and I had no right to revive them although I was tempted to do so.' She was still playing with the put-outer and when she blew again in the candle, the flame was almost like a bonfire.  
  
'Your anger is understandable, my dear. However, legally Severus Snape is your father. That is all I had to say to you.' he said in a tone that did not admit disobedience, holding a hand up to her.  
  
'Professor, what about the exchange program, will we be included in it anymore?' Charon asked, a lot more respectful than her sister, and finally asking what had been on her mind during her sister's outburst.  
  
'Ah yes, as your sister has pinpointed, the papers concerning this have already been approved, so there is no inconvenience.' He was smiling kindly. 'And I suppose your next question is where you will stay? I should have to send you to your aunts for the remaining time till the start of the term, Miss Moore.' He replied readily.  
  
'Well, I have to look on the bright side of things. I won't have to go to those crackpots of aunts. I just can't stand them and their ways to supposedly help muggles.' Spica said from her spot near the portrait of Armando Dippet. This is so unfair was all Charon could think. 


	16. Thestrals

Chapter 16  
  
Thestrals  
  
'However, I could make an exception for you and your sister to spend the remaining time at the headquarters of the Order of Phoenix.' This seemed to brighten up at least one of the girls. 'Now, let us get back to our business.' He looked them both over. 'Actually, I think both of you are tired and have gone through many things. You deserve some rest, though it will have to wait for a few moments longer, as we have to go somewhere else. If you will please step out of my office, I will have a house elf take you to the carriage.' He led them to the door and closed it behind them. 'Severus, I still need to have a word with you before I go.'  
  
Once out the two girls looked at each other. 'Are we going to let them ditch us like that?' asked Spica a devilish grin on her face. At meeting her sister's grave eyes her face fell. 'It doesn't matter, not really, not to us... does it... you're still my sister you know, nothings changed.'  
  
A weary smile formed on the others lips 'Nothing about you, but I'm the one that betrayed us, should have told you all.'  
  
'Not really, I'm chaos, so I guess all about my life has to be a chaos.' Spica replied.  
  
'You took it surprisingly well; I expected fire works.' Charry chided her sister.  
  
'Right. Now, shut up and let me do the spell.' With a snap of her fingers, in front of them appeared an image, as of vapours, of what the inhabitants of the other room were doing.  
  
'Now, Severus, I don't need want to hear what happenen. This time I want to see it.' His tone was grave and although they could not see his face clearly, he was quite imposing. They saw him get a large stone bowl covered in runes witch they immediately recognized as a pensieve. They both knew what they were, on some occasions they had used them, especially Charon, being a seer, she had to register her prophecies, which more often than not turned out to be old ones that had sadly been forgotten through the ages.  
  
The dark wizard reluctantly drew with the tip of his wand some threads of memories placing them in the bowl.  
  
To their frustration it was impossible for them to see those memories. After a while the two men resumed their discussion, presumably after they had watched that memory.  
  
'Severus, is this all that happened?' he sounded a bit exasperated. He must have hoped for more.' There's nothing else Tom did or said?  
  
'Nothing. The sole purpose of the gathering was to kill her. And it worked. It was true Albus.' He replied.  
  
'Yes, so it seems.' Even though the image was composed out of vapours they could see the twinkle in his eyes disappear. He then changed his tone, recovering his good humour. 'What impression has her daughter, I mean your daughter, had on you?'  
  
They never got to hear his response for a strange little house elf with lots of socks and hats on him came after them as Dumbledore had instructed. They had nothing else to do but comply and follow the elf through the dark, deserted corridors of Hogwarts, and down those many moving sets of stairways.  
  
Feel like I'm stoned Wanna be alone, just for a while, unknown Weeks on the road a long way from home Just shut off the phone  
  
Spice could not keep herself from singing. This was how she usually showed her emotions to others. By what she was singing people around her could realize how bad she was.  
  
The pictures that were not asleep were talking and pointing to them, going from one picture to another. An old witch even followed them all the way to the Entrance Hall, waking up several other pictures when she jumped into their frames. The armors suits were also turning their heads to look at them, and if it wasn't too farfetched she could have sworn the squeaking noise they were making was actually a type of whisper.  
  
Once they were outside they could see that a carriage was waiting for them. Instead of normal horses, it had Thestrals pulling it. Thestrals were Spica's favorite creatures. When she had been about four they were all she would draw, and instead of having her room filled with unicorns like the other girls her age, she had managed to gather a whole heard of fluffy stuffed Thestrals. Charon, on the other hand, was not a big fan of these creatures.  
  
These weren't the only strange creatures Spica liked. While the other little girls used to have their rooms filled with doxidols, her sister actually had real doxis'. Strangely enough her's were tamed that they did not attack, even if provoked. She could even play with the baby ones, while their mother would fly around without any intention to take her eyes out.  
  
Not even the presence of these magnificent Thestrals could pull Spica out of her reverie. She just took a seat in the carriage looking at the grounds. The sun was beginning to rise, and she could now see the mountains and a little of the dark forest. She wished she could be in there. It would be a lot easier to take all of the things that were happening if she could only for a few hours transform. The beast inside had not been left to roam for months and it was harder and harder to control this desire. Soon she would be able to.  
  
I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone But though you're still with me I've been alone all along  
  
Spice was sitting there in the carriage, in a corner muttering so me things when the headmaster finally came. He first told the Thestrals where he wanted to go and then stepped in with them in the carriage.  
  
A.N: Please push that button and just say something. If you have nothing constructive to say just bullshit me that you loved it. And if you hated it don't feel ashamed and flame me. I'm a little masochistic so I think I will enjoy reading how much you hate the piece of shit I have written. Please just push that button. (I think that just for the A.N. I should make it R)  
  
uh, what does this button do? 


	17. Mors Mordre

Chapter 17  
  
Mors Mordre  
  
Once the girls had left his office. The headmaster turned to look at his colleague. Severus Snape was in a state of shock. There were few things that could surprise this man, but this would be one of them. This man who always careful to keep his emotions under control and never seemed to care about anybody was profoundly shaken by the news the Headmaster had delivered.  
  
Dumbledore knew that Juno Grey had been one of the few people to become truly close to Severus. She probably knew the man better than the headmaster had managed to in all this years. The woman had come out of nowhere. She had been a bit older than her daughters when she decided to join the Order.  
  
One of the most talented witches he had ever passes across, Albus remembered. Her abilities in wandless magic were outstanding and her ability to control her mind and that of others was something he had never come across since. Yet, just like her youngest daughter had pointed out, she was doomed not to be able to fall in love. A curse made by one of her ancestors, a witch that had been betrayed by her fiancé.  
  
'Now, Severus, I don't need want to hear what happened, this time I want to see it.' He told Snape, shaking his head to clear his thoughts, wishing to remain on task.  
  
The potions master looked at him oddly. The headmaster usually wished to hear a not too-detailed account of the meetings. Things that might be significant, or, if any important plans of the Order had somehow ended up in Voldemort's scaly hands. However, he complied with the headmaster's wish. He reluctantly placed the shreds of memory and placed them in the bowl that Albus had place on the desk in front of them.  
  
The headmaster stirred a little the silvery liquid and the images of the night were replayed in the vapour liquid. This time he could see the whole thing a more clearly. He could also pay attention to things he had not noticed.  
  
At the meeting Severus had been careful to stay in the back, trying to not participate at anything. It was odd to see this woman again, in a strangely similar circumstances with their first encounter. She had come to show the Dark Lord that he was powerless in the face of her pure magic. And she had proved her point. Now, on the other hand, it was the opposite. In a morbid way he was curious of the outcome.  
  
The first time she had feared nothing and no one; this time she was weak. She was not afraid for herself. Nothing could harm her. She was afraid for the ones she cared for. The moment her husband hit the floor lifeless, Snape knew she had given up. She had told him on countless times that she was powerful as long as she felt nothing for no one. That had been the reason their relationship had never been more than physical. They thought alike and she had taught him much about how to control his mind, and that of others.  
  
That must also be the reason why she left so suddenly, Severus realized. He wasn't sure if she knew at the time of her pregnancy but he knew that wouldn't have stopped her. Probably she knew. It made perfect sense, come to think of it. She had left so that she could protect the unborn child; it was a time of war after all and the child was a great weakness.  
  
As he watched her hit the floor after the killing curse had been cast, he knew the only reason why she was dying was because she wanted to. She wanted to be closer with her husband... for eternity. In that moment Severus was jealous. However, the feeling was short lived.  
  
The headmaster had been carefully studying the memory. He was feeling a bit disappointed. He had built up his hopes about this. It could have been a wonderful opportunity to find out some of Voldemort's plans. He had supposed that the dark lord would have revealed some of his plans to someone that was soon going to die. However, it seemed that the little incident with Harry had thought him a lesson. And this woman had, after all, lived on after several occasions being hit with the killing curse. It was a little known fact, but Harry Potter wasn't the only one to have been hit with a killing curse and lived to tell the tale.  
  
'Severus, is this all that happened?' Albus asked, sounding a bit exasperated 'There's nothing else the Tom did or said?' he knew it was impossible not to see everything when looking in a penseive. This was, after all, the reason he used one, however, he could not help feeling frustrated.  
  
'Nothing.' Severus replied evenly. 'The sole purpose of the gathering was to kill her. And it worked. It was true Albus...'  
  
'Yes, so it seems.' the twinkle in the old man's eyes disappeared. He looked one more time in the bowl. The image of Juno's face was slowly spinning. Those blue eyes looked so deep one could drown in them.  
  
He than changed his tone, recovering his good humour. 'What impression has her daughter, I mean your daughter, had on you?'  
  
Just like the man, Severus snorted, to bring up a subject he was dreading to think of. He remained silent, carefully avoiding Dumbledore's eyes.  
  
'Severus, she is a very powerful witch, just like her mother. Both girls have powers we do not even know of, though I don't think they are as strong as their mother.' Dumbledore looked at Snape through his half moon glasses. The man was still avoiding his gaze. 'Maybe if they were to combine their powers.' He added in an after thought.  
  
Snape nodded curtly. "Is that all, Professor?" he asked a trifle bitterly.  
  
"For now. Oh, and I expect you to be at the meeting tonight." Dumbledore replied and escorted his guest to his office door. Once Snape had gone Dumbledore sighed as he went back to his desk. He sent a message to those waiting at the house of Black that he would arrive soon and then left the office. 


	18. The Lost Prophecy

Chapter 18  
  
The Lost Prophecy  
  
The girls were waiting for him in the carriage. Sitting there in a world of their own, replayong the event of the night in their heads. The thestrals were ready, waiting for Dumbeldore to tell them were they were heading. He had grown fond of these creatures, and although people thought them the bringers of doom, they were remarkable beasts.  
  
The lift off was a little hard, but from then on the ride was smooth and steady. The only thing the girls could hear was the flapping of the threstrals big bat-like wings. The sky was clear of all clouds and at this hour there was no one looking out at the sky. Even if they would have been, the carriage was charmed with a very clever disillusioning charm.  
  
It was very silent, and it seemed that at least Charon had dozed of, though Spica wasn't looking tired. She was gazing out the window, not even blinking. The headmaster did not want to impose on her silence, though he had several questions he wanted to ask her. He knew of the powers the girls had. He just did not know to what extent they could stretch. This question was bothering him greatly.  
  
Outside, the dawn was coming fast, its crimson aura gathering off the starboard side. The earth was still black beneath them.  
  
Out of the blue, Charon's eyes opened and she started speaking in a voice that was not her own.  
  
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have powers the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...  
  
Once she had said that her head fell to her chest and it seemed she was in some kind of a daze.  
  
Dumbledore's jaw was lay slack as he recovered from the shock the girls words gave him. She could not know of this prophecy. It had been lost. Only he and young Mister Potter knew of it. The only place it still remained was in his mind, and although he knew it was not the safest place if he wanted to hide it from them, he was sure they had not yet gone so deep in his thoughts.  
  
'What did she just say?' he asked, knowing it was an obvious question.  
  
A prophecy, I think', responded Spica while trying to get a response from her sister.  
  
'It is a lost prophecy' the headmaster informed her.  
  
Oh, yeah, Charm's not that original, you know. You wouldn't believe how many of Nostradamus' we've heard.' Spica said with a snigger. 'She generally just remembers lost prophecies. Usually, ones that were lost but relate to what's going on now.' She told him.  
  
The younger girl was slowly recovering. Her eyes, which had been glassy a moment earlier, were reclaiming their sparkle. Her skin, which had assumed a ghostly hue, was now back to its healthy look. She looked at her sister and then she fixed her eyes on the headmaster and in a strange tone she told him. 'You know, not all prophecies speak the truth.'  
  
The headmaster was speechless, something that hadn't happened in many years. It had probably last occurred when her mother had said something strangely similar, concerning another prophecy.  
  
Soon, the girl's attention was turned to her sister who was again singing nonsense.  
  
I know it hurts too much I know that you're scared I know you're running out of trust Wishing you were dead  
  
In your misery You're not alone So come share your tears with me And witness it all go wrong  
  
However, Charon noted, this time Spica's nonsense was getting to her heart. She closed her eyes and laid her head in Spica's lap. The older girl did not say a thing. She just played with a strand of Charon's blond reddish hair.  
  
Not too long after this, the carriage began to descend. They were getting close to the house. From up here they could look at the city of London, although it was rather diificult to see anything through the fog. They finally landed between two houses. Although there was nothing in front of them to see, both girls could feel something hidden there. 


	19. Nr 12 Grimauld Place

Chapter 19  
  
Number Twelve Grimmauld Place  
  
Once Dumbledore stepped out of the carriage and told the horses to go back to Hogwarts, he spoke to them. 'We're supposed to go at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.' Once the meaning of his words hit them they could see as a house was appearing in front of them. Dumbledore stepped up and opened the door, and they followed him in. It was odd, both girls noted, but somehow they knew this house. They had seen it somewhere.  
  
A witch, with bright red hair greeted them. 'Albus, good, you have arrived.' she told the older wizard before turning her attention to them. 'Hello, girls. I suppose you are both hungry. I was just making the breakfast. Step up, don't be shy. What would you like. Eggs? Toast? An omelette? Pancakes?'  
  
Neither girl was sure their stomach could take anything in but they did not have the guts to say no to this witch. There was something about her that made them think twice before arguing with her. 'Toast, would suffice.' Spice murmured. The truth was that all she wanted now was some time alone and perhaps a bed where she could lay her tired body.  
  
They took a sit at the kitchen table while the witch bustled around. They were looking at the surroundings. It looked fairly decent although there was something like a shadow over it all. Spice laid her head on the table. Her eyes were hard to keep open anymore.  
  
'Please excuse me girls, but I have to call the children down for breakfast.' She left them alone with the headmaster, who was seated on the other side of the table, munching on a piece of buttered toast. He seemed absorbed in his thoughts as well.  
  
The woman was back soon, by herself, which surprised the girls a little. Though a few moments later it seemed like a heard of hippogriffs was coming was coming down the stairs. A sea of red heads stepped in the kitchen with a black haired boy among them, which Spica immediately recognized as Harry.  
  
The surprise from the mass of people that had entered the kitchen was evident. Their eyes travelled from the black haired girl to the reddish blond one. Out of everybody Harry was the most surprised to see them them. This explained a lot of things, he thought to himself. Last night he had not been able to get a word from anybody. Neither Ron, nor Ginny knew a thing and the older Weasley brothers were all part of the Order now and would not tell them anything, not even the twins.  
  
'Hello' Spica said lamely. 'I'm Spica and she's Charon' she offered and outstretched her hand. A long series of introductions followed. Finally, once Spica had found out all of the Weasley kids' names they all went back to the table. It was very lively and it got them out of the depression that had been starting to claim them. Once Spica had finished eating, she had trouble keeping awake and put her head down on the table.  
  
. 'You must be very tired dear' Mrs. Weasley addressed her. 'Ginny, go show her your room. Until we can fix up another one they can stay with you, though we'll have to change that when Hermione show's up.' This got the attention of Ron and Harry. They were really anxious to see their friend again. She had been left out of things lately and they were starting to fear she might have an outburst the likeness of Harry's from the previous summer.  
  
'Go on, girls, follow her.' She said. 'Oh, Ginny, you could lend them some clothes as well.' Ginny nodded and got up from the table, motioning to the sisters to follow her.  
  
It took a bit longer for the others to finish but once they had, Mrs. Weasley sent them through out the house. Even after a whole year the house still needed some more purging. It was just too filled with black magic to surrender so easily.  
  
Once the kitchen was empty Dumbledore and Mrs. Weasley had a very long talk. The recent events were not to anyone's liking. Voldemort had started attacking openly again and it wasn't good. Some members of the Order had already been killed through quite unconventional means; it was the start of war.  
  
'Do you think he was after them as well?' Mrs. Weasley asked Dumbledore.  
  
I don't doubt it. However there are very strong forces protecting them. I think it would be hard for Voldemort to get to them.' Mrs Weasley flicked at the sound of the name. 'They are safe for now.'  
  
How can you be so sure, Dumbledore? A couple of days ago you just told us that there were powerful forces protecting Mrs. Grey and now she and her husband are dead.'  
  
'As I said, she was protected by ancient pure magic and as long as she wanted to live there was nothing that could harm her. But here is the fault with that magic. Once her husband was dead, she no longer wanted to live. She just gave up.' Dumbledore explained to the motherly witch. 'Her daughters, on the other hand, have every reason to live so we don't have to worry too much.' Dumbledore's confident tone exasperated Mrs. Weasley.  
  
'Now, Molly, I have to leave.' Dumbledore said, getting up from the table. 'There is still a lot of paperwork that needs to be done in concern to the girls. I will come back in time for the meeting. If either one of our guests needs anything I trust you to take care of it.' With this, the headmaster and was gone with a snap.  
  
He had not exaggerated. On his desk there was a pile of papers that would take a lot of his time. Just before starting all the paperwork he conjured himself a cup of tea. While drinking it, he mused on what hidden powers the girls possessed. There was one particular power that their mother had possessed that he was not sure had passed on to either of her daughters. No. It couldn't have, and there was no point in hoping as it was already too late.

A.N. if i don't recieve at least 5 to 10 reviews don't expect any new chapter, and belive me you'll be expecting it. (it's not a threat, just a warning)


	20. Wild Things

Chapter 20

Wild things

It was already evening, around six o'clock, when the girls woke up. They would have slept for another couple of hours but there was too much noise, what with people galloping up and down the stairs. In addition to the thunder form the steps, it also appeared that blank picture frame above Spica's bed was holding some sort of meeting. Though the colours of the painting had faded, it seemed that the people in it could still see what was going on in the real world and were commenting on it.

Spica tried to go back to sleep but it was in vain. Voices coming from outside the room only seemed to grow louder which each passing moment. She finally got up, slipped her feet off the bed and onto the ragged rug and stretched a little. She listened for a moment, trying to understand what the people outside were saying but she only caught scraps. She left the bed and looked at her surroundings.

When they had entered the room she was so tired she hadn't even lifted her head before falling asleep. She hadn't even wanted to change her clothes, but neither Charon nor Ginny would let her go to sleep dressed. It seemed that the young redhead was a lot like her mother.

The room was dark. From what Spica could discern, there wasn't much furniture; a wardrobe, a table and two chairs, in addition to the two beds where they had been sleeping. Charon was also wide awake and seemed as if she too had been listening to the voices for some time.

'So, are we staying here or go out?' Spica asked her sister, eager to find out what the fuss was. Her sister nodded and got out of bed. Spica opened the door. Before doing so she took a quick moment to study the doorknob, which looked curiously like a snake.

After the exited the room, they went to the stairs. The place was filled with wizards, though the youngest ones present appeared to be the Weasley twins. Spica wondered where Harry and the others were.

'What's up?' Spica asked unceremoniously.

The adults looked up at her. The looks they gave her didn't seem as nice as they had this morning.

Spica tried again. 'Is there anything we should know? Anything we could help with?' she asked, hoping she sounded as sincere as she felt.

The condescending look she got from most of them bugged her, but she tried to keep herself calm; it wasn't a good idea to lose herself now.

'The matters discussed here are of no concern to you.' One of them said.

'This meeting is about Tom Riddle, known as Voldemort isn't it?' Spica responded. She noticed with quiet satisfaction the way a few of them cringed at the name. 'He has just dispatched my parents to the other world and you expect me to stay put like a nice little girl and not even try to find out more?' she asked, verging on outrage.

'You ARE a little girl, so not trying to find out more is just the course of action you will take.'

'I'm a little girl.' Spica said, pausing, 'What about them?' she said, pointing towards Fred and George, 'or her?' she nodded towards Tonks, 'they're not more then a couple of years older than I am, yet they're members of your little club.' By this time, Spica had raised her voice a bit too louder, waking Mrs Black. She began yelling all sort of profanities. The curtains, flared open to reveal her face. Her face, contorted in anger, on the verge of continuing her tirade, suddenly stopped.

The woman's eyes were fixed on the two girls. For some seconds her face contracted in a strange grimace, before softening to a rather pleasant smile.

'Spica, you've come, finally.' Her voice was warm. 'You can now lay claim on your house and throw these filth and traitors out of the house.' Mrs Black said.

'My house?...' Spica said, puzzled, 'This is the House of Black?' She turned, this time directing her question to the group of wizards who were all gaping at the strange treatment Spica had received from the painting.

No one said a word. Spica rounded her shoulders to the group, relishing what was about to come. 'You dare mouth me? You dare deny my wishes in my own house? I am the only one to control this house. I can have you out of this house if I desire it. The House of Black will always listen to its mistress.' Spica said.

Her tone and her posture had transformed. The others, Charon included, felt a stange pull, as though they ought bow their heads to her. As Spica screamed the words she could feel the house respond to her. The big chandelier above them dimmed in brightness, the candles fluttered, casting strange shadows onto the room. Her eyes were darkening, like the sea before a storm.

'Am I to be allowed in the meeting? Or will you have to find a new headquarters to your little group?' she said, calming her voice, giving it a sickeningly sweat tone.

'Ms. Grey, as an underage witch you cannot join the Order. The rules are set for your own benefit.' drawled Snape, the only one still calm after her little outburst. He was used to things like this. He had been engaged to her mother for about a year. Things like this and surprises of the sort, finding she was a Black, were not so surprising anymore.

'Does that mean no?' Spica said. 'Well than that means I will just have to take back what's mine.' She spat.

Without a word or a movement from her, the entire house seemed to change before their eyes. The lights recommenced their flickering, the paper on the walls that had been peeling suddenly refound its lustre. All the paintings that had been removed or thrown away, appeared out of nowhere to their old positions. The whole place seemed to regain its formal glory, yet still seemed darkened. Odds and ends that had been dispatched reappeared in their formal places, and the whole house seemed to be against the intruders, save for Spica and her sister.

Mrs. Weasley was the first to move. She backed towards the door, but when she tried to touch the knob, it sprang to life and tried to bite her, hissing and spitting.

Spica felt amazing at the moment. She had always tried to keep her powers under control. That's what everybody had told her to do. Sometimes she just felt like she wanted to burst out. No true reason. Just like this time. She didn't even want to be in the stupid Order. She just didn't like to feel like she was left out. She didn't have anything against any of these people. They were not bad in any way, they had tried to be nice but she was too confused and she felt too abused. She just wanted to tear everything apart and then to put it back together.

She liked the looks of fear on most of the wizards and witches before her. It was incredible how people who were fighting against the worst wizard of modern times could be so scared of a teenager. However, glancing about, Spica did not like the bored look her sister was throwing her. And even more infuriating was the fact that Snape had the same look, a mix of pity and sarcasm. He considered her pathetic. A spoilt brat looking for attention. Oh, Spica reeled, she felt like smashing him up; she was just about to hex him, when a hand gripped her forearm from behind.

'What has put you in this foul mood?' Dumbledore asked, his strong grip on the verge of causing pain.

'Nothing' Spica snapped. 'Nothing but the fact that I am not allowed joining your little club.'

'I expected you would want that, but it is not possible.' He said sombrely.

'Why not...?' she paused, waiting for the headmaster's response. Getting none, she continued on, 'Why... I can't take part in your cat and mouse chase because I'm too young? Age means nothing, you obsolete dingbat, except perhaps to be a liability, in your case.' Spica realized she was toeing the line. She didn't really feel what she was saying, she was in just for the tantrum.

'I can bring forth the dead and you think I fear death?' she began to rant. 'I can put a stopper in death and you think I'm afraid of dying. You then are a lousy, biased scum-bag.' She was angry now, and she knew it was bad. She could control her powers when she was showing off, like earlier, but when she was truly angry she was out of even her own control.

Blue eyes met hers. 'I would like to have a talk with you Miss Grey, Miss More. Come with me.' Dumbledore said softly. 'Severus, would you be so kind as to fetch Harry? The both of you should be present as well.'

The blue eyes had begun to twinkled as he spoke. 'I'll speak to Remus at dinner if he's feeling up to it, after last night.' He added to himself. So, he thought to himself, his hopes hadn't been in vain. It was very possible, if this display were to be taken seriously.

A.N. hope you liked it and you'll review me, because I really need some reviews. If there's any thing you feel the need to criticise, you're welcome to. I want to know what things I can improve.

Oh but don't expect me to improve my spelling and grammar because this is probably as good as they will get.


	21. He's coming back Beaky

A.N. warning: this chapter contains some more adult themes towards the end. Though I don't think it is enough for me to have to make my rating R, I think it is fair enough to warn you, so that you wouldn't flame me. And if you still feel like flaming me, I would appreciate it, if you signed it, so that I could explain to you in more depths my idea.

**Chapter 21**

He's coming back Beaky

Harry was sitting on the floor among a pile of dead rats. His shoulders felt stiff from sitting upright for so long, from the meeting Dumbledore had requested. He had since tucked himself in Buckbeak's room. He sat there, settled against the wall, trying to tempt Buckbeak with some very juicy fresh rats, disgusting though Harry thought they were. But the hippogriff would not stir.

Ever since Sirius had gone beyond the veil, the hippogriff barely touched his food. Hagrid was the only one who could still make the depressed beast eat anything. Buckbeak was lying on the floor, which was a bad sign. He opened one of his golden eyes and watched the boy. Even to the animal the boy did not look well.

Harry's usual grumpy mood had evaporated. Ever since he had seen Spica he had felt there was something special about her. However, nothing he had known of her had prepared him for today.

All last night he had thought over what had happened to her and her sister. Sitting on his bed, he had given Ron a detailed account of the recent days' events. He might have left out some parts about his last dreams but he tried not to leave out too much.

Seeing her at breakfast had been a big surprise. Now the surprise was even bigger.

Harry tried one more time to lure the hippogriff to take a bite out of a dead rat but to no avail. 'You miss Sirius, don't you?' he asked the animal. The huge beast turned his head around in order to study him better with his large golden eyes. The boy was smiling.

Harry was positively beaming at the hippogriff. He hadn't been this happy in a long time. This feeling was definitely good enough to fight of all the dementors in Azkaban. He had never hoped for something like this to happen. Ever since his talk with Nearly-Headless-Nick he had refused to think of the possibility of ever seeing Sirius again, while alive. What the ghost had told him made perfect sense. And Harry knew that Sirius was no coward--floating around and going through walls was not something Sirius would ever choose as a pastime.

But the talk with Dumbledore had made a huge difference. He still could not believe what those girls were capable of. Dumbledore himself had told him a few years ago that none could bring forth the dead. However, what he suggested them to do was the same thing.

At first, the girls had denied his plead, pointing out the dangers of such an act. But once Dumbledore explained the whole situation, Spica had had another one of her 'charming' outbursts. The girl could outdo him when it came to throwing tantrums, Harry considered with amusement.

From what she had said Harry understood that it was possible to bring Sirius back. What Dumbledore and the girls had discussed was difficult to comprehend. All Harry had managed to understand from their talk of incantations, rituals, and unveiling was that it was possible for them to bring Sirius back if there hadn't passed more then 40 days, for afterwards his spirit would leave for the other world. The 40 days ended tomorrow. Since his body had gone with his spirit there would be no trouble bringing him back just as he had been.

(Ok I'm not positive the 40 days end then, I'm probably about a day or two late, but never mind, you wait for the reviving, it's worth it.)

'He's coming back Beaky' Harry whispered to the hippogriff who appeared to understand him and appeared startled at the news. 'You don't believe me, just watch.' Harry murmured petting the feathery head of the beast.

After awhile, feeling confident, he left the room. Tomorrow would be a big day. They would first go to Diagon alley, for some purchases, for Spica and Charon. They hadn't yet received their letters from Hogwarts. There they would meet with Hermione. After that Dumbledore wanted him, the girls, and peculiarly Snape, to come with him to the Ministry. There were some things to be discussed with the minister Dumbledore said. Once finished there they would go to the Department of Mysteries to the room with the archway.

Harry did not know what to expect once there. He could not imagine what it would take to call a spirit back. Harry realised that the only way he could find out what would happen was to go and talk with Spica. He had been meaning to speak with her from the moment she had first set foot in this house, but there had not been time for it. It was late enough for her to have finished the talk with Dumbledore and Snape, Harry considered. He had been elegantly thrown out of the room once the subject of Sirius's return was finished. He wondered what was it that they did not want him to know.

He went looking for her in Ginny's room, where he knew the girls had been sent to sleep earlier. He only found Ginny chattering with Charon. It seemed they had gotten quite close in the short time and gave him a friendly wave as he entered and exited.

He tried the kitchen. The spirits were rather high as the Weasley twins demonstrated one of their latest discoveries.

Dumbledore noticed him and approached him. Despite the headmaster's habit to leave in a hurry, he was uncharacteristically still here. Harry thought it might have been related to the increased danger from Voldemort.

'Are you looking for Spica, Harry?' the headmaster asked him.

Harry looked surprised, but then when was the headmaster wrong? 'Yes'. He said.

'Would you mind if I help you locate her?' the headmaster asked him

Harry nodded, slightly puzzled and followed the headmaster to the drawing room. The headmaster opened the door and they both stepped in noiselessly.

Spica was sitting there on the window sill. Silent as death. The moonlight casting strange shadows. Her eyes were glassy; she was out in a world of her own--a dark world of her own. Harry could feel her pain and sorrow throughout the room. He could feel it through the whole house.

'I've felt this way before so insecure. Crawling in my skin, these wounds they will not heal"' she sang in a voice so unearthly that even Dumbledore was taken by surprise. He could see her looking intently at her wrist. There was bright light streaming through the window from a streetlamp. He clearly saw as slowly on her wrist formed a slim line. The skin went whiter. Then blood started to surface. Just as it began to flow, she took a small ornate dagger that had adorned one the walls only moments ago and slashed it across the cut. Instead of increasing the flow of blood, the wound disappeared completely.

It was amazing to see such a show of power, yet depressing to see it wasted like this, Dumbledore thought to himself. Harry stared on in amazement, unsure how to react. Noting Dumbledore did not seemed concerned, Harry held his position.

Spica turned to look at them, a sad smile playing on her lips, no life in her eyes. She wasn't in much mood for conversations, or for explanations. Too much had happened even for her. And she new there was much more ahead.

This night would prove to be a night of dreams that were about to come true.

A.N. see I put out a warning.

And sorry for not posting any new chapters sooner.


	22. Magical Mayhem

**A.N. no they belong to J.K. Rowling, so don't sue.**

**And to all my fateful readers, consider this a Christmas present (and don't actually expect any new chapters until Easter:) just half joking)**

**Chapter 22**

Magical mayhem

Flooing into the Weasley twins' shop on Diagon alley, Harry was relieved to see he had managed to properly arrive. Mrs and Mr. Weasley were already there, along with several other Order members.

Harry almost missed moving off the hearth in time for Ron's arrival; he had been transfixed by everything around him. The shop looked like nothing he had seen before. It was an explosion of colours, lights and sounds.

Harry took another moment to glance around the shop. The intense colours caused Harry to blink twice before his eyes adjusted. Garish shades of orange, putrid hues of yellow, and a lurid shade of green appeared to be the preferred palette for the shop. Directly to his left was a tower of jack-in-the-boxes stacked twenty high. Only a few feet in front of the hearth was a pile of atomic bouncing balls balancing precariously. Looking through to the end of the shop, near the door, Harry could see an expansive candy display to rival Honeydukes. Whistles and bells were causing a cacophony of noises, and various bits and baubles around the shop seemed to honking, letting off steam, and bubbles. It was pure pandemonium. Eager though he was to explore the rest of the shop, now was not the time, Harry reminded himself, tearing his eyes from an advertisement for Gred and Forge's Eyebrow Remover-Perfect for Sleepovers.

Once outside it took him even longer to recover. Diagon Alley had always been a crazy place filled with the most unexpected things, Harry found. All the little shops filled with creatures and objects one could only find in their wildest dreams. But what Harry was seeing now was wilder than even that.

He couldn't even see the walls of the shops, or the posts; every centimetre had been covered in posters with faces of witches and wizards Harry had never seen before. All of them waving and gesticulating wildly with broad smiles on their faces.

A vote of no confidence had been given for Fudge as the Minister of Magic recently, Harry knew. Because of this, dozens of witches and wizards, in all shapes and sizes, were vying for the position. Harry looked a little closer at the posters at eye level.

'Vincent Harbottle' it read. 'Longtime supporter of the anti-Voldemort movement'. Harry snorted. It seemed to be the only thing he stood for. "A radical thought, that." Harry commented to Ron, who grinned when he read it. They stepped down a few meters and continued reading.

Musicians, obscure politicians, retired teachers; even a magical circus animal trainer had apparently all thrown their hat into the political arena for this election. Harry shook his head. He had looked through seven different candidates, not one who had said anything bright.

Apparently, though, the posters were getting their point across. Literally. "Ouch!" said Ron, rubbing his head, where yet another flier, in the shape of a paper airplane, bombarded him. He grabbed it and showed it to Harry, "Luetta Lavton: a proponent of the people'. What does that mean, Harry?"

Harry smiled, "She thinks people are a good thing, I guess."

"New fangled notion, that. "Expect she'll send the world reeling if she's elected." Ron shot back. The candidates were all shouting over one another to passers-by, making the din in the small street almost unbearable.

Still amazed by the new look of Diagon Alley, Harry and Ron made their way in and out of shops. They had about half an hour to spend and, naturally, one of the first places to visit was the Quidditch articles shop. Harry looked around at the models. His Firebolt was still the best, but there some other models had appeared with marked improvements. He moved over to take a look at the book section; this year he would be back on the Quidditch team, but a lot of the old members had already graduated so there was need for new tactics.

He picked up a book called 'Fly to Win: a Guide to Success'. Not an overly original title, Harry thought. Leafing through the book, he walked right into someone and knocked them down. He looked up to apologise only to see Cho Chang's face looking up at him, bewildered and surprised. After a moment she huffed and retrieved her own books. Harry bent to help her.

'Please don't start crying.' Harry said, half-joking, half-serious.

'I won't, thank you very much.' She answered snappishly.

Harry straightened up, wishing he hadn't said what he's said. He hadn't meant to offend her. He hadn't meant to run into her and knock her down, hadn't meant to run into her period. It was an awkward moment and he didn't know what to say, so for the next few moments he just surveyed her, waiting for her to make the next move.

'Harry, where are you?' Ron asked appearing from behind some shelves containing compasses. He looked blinking, from Harry to Cho. 'Hermione will scold us if we're late.' He added.

'Oh. Hermione, I see.' Cho turned around to look at him. 'You don't have to give me explanations.' Cho said sounding offended. 'We'll see each other at school, then.' She said though from her tone Harry didn't think it sounded like something she was looking forward to.

'She's just my friend.' Harry said weakly at Cho's retreating back, but she didn't turn. 'Not my girlfriend.' He mumbled. For a moment there he thought he should do something right then and there, like kiss her, or confess his undying love for her, but it really didn't matter, and besides, he wasn't sure it was an undying love.

His eyes met Ron's who groaned. 'Let's go Harry.' Ron mumbled.

Once outside, it took them awhile to find Hermione. They had tried Flourish and Blotts along with a few other places appropriate for her interests. They had not expected to find her settled at a nice table outside Florian Fortescue's, having an ice cream and watching the world go by.

'Harry! Ron!' Hermione exclaimed, waving.

'Why weren't you at Flourish and Blotts?' Ron asked, sounding bewildered. He received one of Hermione's looks that clearly stated it was a stupid question to ask.

Sitting there at Fortescues, eating ice-cream and talking about the summer happenings had a refreshing effect on Harry. With Ron and Hermione he felt as if nothing could go wrong, though he knew it was a stupid feeling, as every time something bad had happened the two of them were always dragged into it with him.

They decided not to talk in-depth of Voldemort's recent attacks since they were in such a public place, and everyone passing by was looking at him. Even now as he ate his ice cream, he heard whispers from the other patrons. Being the boy-who-lived was a tiring job, and it was twenty-four hours, seven days a week, all year long, every year, for the rest of his life.

'Harry, what do you think of it?' Ron asked him.

Harry realized he hadn't been paying attention to anything Ron and Hermione had been saying. He just gave them a small nod, hoping it would cover his inattention.

Hermione didn't buy it and huffed at him, explaining it one more time. 'I was just telling Ron that nobody even knew until recently that there were so many death eaters that had infiltrated the ministry.' She said frowning. 'Now that it has got out, they're trying to get rid of all of them, or at least cover up for their previous mistakes.'

'So that's a good thing, now isn't it?' Ron assumed.

'I don't know.' Hermione said scowling at her melting ice cream. 'At least Fudge seemed to have given into Dumbledore's reasoning when it came right down to it. A new minister could stir up much more trouble then they would solve.'

'She has a fair point there, mate.' Harry told Ron, trying to hide the grimace that had crossed his face at the mentioning of the Fudge.

'Look, there's your mum and dad, Ron. I think we should join them.' Hermione told them as she yanked them towards the cobblestone.

Harry knew he would soon have to leave them in order to join Dumbledore and the group at the Ministry of Magic. He did not expect the first words of Mr. Weasley, rather than the enthusiastic greeting he always had, to be 'Follow me.' as he lead Harry out of Diagon alley.

The meeting point was the Fountain of Magical Brethren. The statues had been repaired after the fight that had took place at the Ministry only a month ago. The witch was just as lovely as before and the wizard had his head back. Nothing of this place seemed to serve as a reminder of the gruesome fight that had taken place.

Standing beside the fountain were Spica and Charon, accompanied by Dumbledore who was speaking with them.

'Hello, Professor Dumbledore. What brings you here?' Mr. Weasley addressed Dumbledore formally.

'Rather unpleasant business, I'm afraid.' Dumbledore answered cordially. ' Had to spend all morning in the Department of international Magic Co-operation.'

While Dumbledore and Arthur did their small chitchat, Harry approached Spica, questioning her about what was going to happen now.

'Well, Bumblebee here will take us to the department of mystery one way or another and then we'll see if we can do our little David Copperfield tricks.' Spica told him dryly. Harry didn't know what to say, he found it unsettling to see her so set on ridicule. He also didn't appreciate the Copperfield reference. Copperfield was a muggle magician, nothing like the magic Harry and rest of the Wizarding world practiced. He couldn't understand why she was so derogatory of the Headmaster.

'Headmaster, there are serious matters needing your attention.' Even in the well-lit hall, Snape still managed to appear seemingly out of the shadows. Harry was sure Snape had intentionally used the word "serious", as his glare moved sideways to Harry.

The headmaster nodded. In a few moments Harry, Spica, Charon, Dumbledore and Snape were all descending to the department of mystery, leaving Mr. Weasley behind.

Harry was amazed that no one had once stopped them to ask where were they going during their descent to the Department of Mystery. Some older wizards had exchanged a word or two with the headmaster on the elevator but no one else seemed to notice them.

When they arrived in the circular room with unmarked doors, Harry remembered how hard he and the DA had manoeuvred their way through this place. Dumbledore, however, knew exactly which door he needed to open.

Dumbledore led the group as he stepped across the threshold in to the dimly lit rectangular room known as the Death Chamber. Harry gazed once again at the crumbling archway with the black veil over it, through which Sirius had fallen.

The others did not take so much time for contemplating, however. The two girls rapidly descended to the low platform, taking their places on each side of the archway. Spica called him down as well, breaking his reverie. Dumbledore and Snape did not go down; Dumbledore near the door and Snape halfway down the aisle, as if staying on guard or something.

The preparation work done, Spica's eyes flared brightly for three seconds as a pulsing seal appeared under them on the main floor, causing Harry to jump back in shock. Ignoring his surprise, a mystical, almost surreal tone came out from Spica's mouth.

'I am preparing to call Sirius and direct him back from the spirit world.'

Grim nods were given from everyone. Spica and Charon closed their eyes, and began chanting, beginning and ending at each owns choosing, so they didn't start or stop at the same time.

As he watched closely, Harry could see something behind the veil respond to the girls' chants. Something, better yet, someone was struggling to get out. He saw something bulge from under the veil and then, seemingly out of nowhere, a hand grabbed on to the stone pillar supporting the arch.

The veil blew apart to reveal a horrifying sight. A man whom Harry immediately recognised as Sirius was struggling to break free from hundreds, thousands, of grey, slimy scabbed hands, which were trying to pull him back.

The girls' chants increased, and their cloaks billowed as they united their hands, having stood and moved closer during the incantations. They seemed in a trance.

In the centre, a hard battle was taking place within the arch. Beams of light and pure darkness erupted from the stone archway. Harry was not expecting the strong gust of wind that swept into the room and pulled him off balance as it whipped through his robes. It seemed to pull him both towards and away from the arch.

The girls chanting grew steady again. They stepped inward and knelt, hands still clasped.  
With the final word of the summoning, Harry realized not only could he feel the wind time, he could hear it. A great rushing noise was whistling down the hall, and Harry braced himself. The blast rushed through the archway, slamming Harry back against the stone benches.

He saw the grey hands no longer had power enough to hold Sirius back. Their grasps released and he passed through the archway. Harry became aware of how warm the room felt now, even the stone bench he was leaning against. The heat had increased, not enough to cause discomfort, but enough to be noticed.

Harry looked at Sirius, he was sprawled on the floor at the base of the arch. He looked very pale, ashen, like a ghost, but he was breathing steadily, his clothes in rags where the hands had grabbed at him.

All the light and warmness that Harry felt around him suddenly evaporated. For a moment, he thought something had gone wrong, and he was desperately looking from Spica to Charon and to Sirius. Sirius still didn't look quite more then a mere ghost and he was afraid he would remain this way. He knew Sirius would rather die then stay like this.

Then he heard the all too familiar sound of long, hoarse, rattling breaths. It chilled his blood. It couldn't be, not now, Harry thought desperately. They couldn't get in the Ministry with all the wizards present.

He slowly turned around to see them blocking the entrance. He took out his wand immediately in the same moment Dumbledore and Snape did. At the same time they spoke the Patronus charm. Three silvery forms erupted from their wands, charging at the hooded forms of the dementors. Instead of fleeing, the dementors dodged the silvery forms and glided with unnatural speed towards the centre of the chamber.

All were stunned at the unnatural behaviour of the dementors. They practically charged for the form of Sirius. It must have been that his ethereal form was highly more appealing than a normal human form. The dementors visibly affected everyone except the girls. Spica and Charon stepped between Sirius and the approaching dementors with no trace of fear.

The two dementors that were leading the charge lifted their hoods and prepared to suck their souls in order to get them out of the way.

It seemed time slowed down. Harry watched as one of the dementors reached a pair of grey, slimy, scabbed hands to grasp Spica, pulling her towards him reaching her to give his deathly kiss. He watched with horror as the Dementor sucked the air and she opened her mouth to him.

A.N I just love the way this chapter ends in a cliffhanger.

And absolute that's to my beta reader, Bena Glinney who helped me immensely with this chapter. The description of the twins shop and that of Diagon alley belong to her as she's great at writing such detailed, vivid descriptions. I am not.

So thank you very very much Bena.


	23. To give him power

A.N:I am so, sosorry for the earlier blunder. thank you Yakshita you were the only one to notice actually.

Iposted two new chapters for my two diffrent stories, and accidentalyI mixded them up. So sorry, here is the real chapter 23 for this story.

**Chapter 24**_ To give him power_

The girl did not pull back. Harry wasn't sure, but thought she looked eager, he saw a twinkle in her eyes. Instead of her soul escaping, the touch of her mouth burned the Dementor. A noise like none Harry had ever heard before came from the dark figures.

And he watched, souls started coming out from the dementors' mouth. It reminded Harry of when his wand had connected with the wand of Voldemort. One by one, the souls came out of both the dementors Spica and Charon had kissed. To Harry's further surprise all the spirits gracefully plunged through the veil, as if lured by some supernatural force. And with each one Harry felt as if one enormous hook had been driven into his chest, just under his ribs, and was ripping it open, pulling his heart towards the veil.

As each spirit escaped, the Dementor collapsed closer and closer to the ground. Soon there would be left nothing more then a ragged hooded clock on the floor.

And with them the pain and the feeling of being split open vanished. Harry sucked in air, gasping; he felt like he'd just run a marathon.

Harry also noticed the other dementors had left the premises. By now Sirius was no longer ghostlike, but as flesh and bone as anybody else.

The girls suddenly collapsed. Falling on the stone floor lifelessly. The headmaster and the potions teacher were at their side, but nothing they did seemed to make any improvement.

Sirius had, in the meantime, gotten up and was looking rather oddly at the scene playing out in front of him. His grey eyes met Harry's. There was an awkward silence between them, neither knowing how to act in this strange scene.

A few hours later, everyone was bunched in the kitchen of number twelve Grimmauld place. Even Snape was there, slightly in the corner, trying not to be noticed.

Harry wanted to talk to Sirius, but at the moment Sirius was with the headmaster in the drawing room. Ron was sitting right beside him, straddling his stool, listening intently to something the twins were saying, something that made Mrs. Weasly tut at them.

Mad Eye Moody was talking to Shacklebolt in low whispers, while in another corner of the room Mundugus was clearly fast asleep. Tonks was uncharacteristically quiet as she had ended up next to Snape. On the other side of Snape was McGongall who was engrossed in conversation with Emmeline Vance.

On Harry's other side Hermione and Ginny were talking in hushed tunes, sometimes giving Harry a look with the corner of the eye.

Mugs of hot chocolate were set in front of everybody. Gazing intently at his own, Harry listened to the sound of the voices talking all around him. His mind was a haze with all that had happened. He brought his mug to his lips when suddenly pain flashed through his scar making him drop the cup, almost splattering it on everybody else.

'Hot' he explained, as everyone in the room looked at him. The only person not satisfied by his explanation was Snape, who looked intently at Harry while unconsciously massaging his left forearm.

Harry watched intently as Snape rose and walked out of the room, quietly, without any goodbyes. Harry heard Mad Eye Moody uttering some profanities quietly, though not quietly enough not to be overheard.

After a while, Harry stood up to make for his room, or any other quiet place.

'Harry.' A voice called from behind as he climbed the first step. He turned to see Spica heading his way.

'Hi.' He mouthed, his throat suddenly dry. 'I thought you were still sleeping.'

'Barely managed to drag myself out of bed. Would have liked nothing better then to lay there for ever

What about Charon?'

'She's still in the dorm. For the next couple of days she'll only be surfacing scarcely for meals, those she won't miss.

'I believe we need to talk.' She told him. 'I have some explaining to do, now don't I?' she said, allowing a trace of humour in her voice.

Harry shrugged his shoulders, but told her to follow him anyway. He thought about going in his room, but she motioned in the opposite direction.

'Let's go in the library, that way we can have more privacy.' She offered.

Harry looked at her strangely. He didn't even know there was a library in the house.

The Black family library was like no library Harry had ever seen. Twice the size of a bookshop, and only slightly smaller then the Hogwarts library, the Black library resembled an unimaginable hybrid of alchemy laboratory, archival library, and defence against the Dark Arts classroom, though Harry thought perhaps the actual emphasis on defense had been little to none. Lit by two overhead chandeliers covered in cobwebs, the place was dotted with clustered islands of worktables buried beneath books, artefacts and a surprising amount of dark art detectors.

'I had a little chit chat with some of the paintings.' Spica said, looking sheepish as she shuffled into the room. 'There is little I don't know about the place.'

The walls were decked with bookshelves filled with dusty tomes. Harry was sure Hermione was going to explode seeing all of the treasures hidden in this room. Even with all of the books, though, the space still maintained an aura of danger; several suits of chain mail armour lurking ominously in corners and niches. The air in here literally spelled royalty, smell of ancient forgotten books and the earthen aroma of stone architecture.

Harry sat beside Spica on a velvet divan that fitted in nicely with the rest of antiques piled into this place.

'Neither of us was allowed to revealing his true… nature, lets say, while in the muggle-filled area, so let's not even touch that subject.' Spica began in a decisive tone.

Harry eyed her apprehensively. It seemed she was way different from the sweet girl he had met in Surrey. She had many secrets. And though he wasn't in any position to judge others, it still seemed this girl had more things to hide.

'More to hide then the boy who is supposed to kill Lord Voldemort, in order to save the world?' Spica asked in an almost mocking tone.

Harry gasped. It was the first time he had actually heard it put this way. It was what he had been thinking for a while now, but it made him uneasy to hear it said out loud by somebody else, somebody he didn't know all that well, and that he seemed to know less by the minute.

'It's all right Harry.' She said, her smile returning. Spica stretched her hand tentatively to his, gingerly placing it upon his. The gesture seemed to signal a sort of truce between them. Harry also noticed that her wrist was bandaged.

'Did you twist it?'

Spica was silent for a few seconds. 'Not really…' she shook her head. 'It broke like it was made of glass when I fell in that room. But no problem, Severus mended it faster than you can say Crumple-Horned Snorkack.'

'Whow, that bad was the injury!' he eyed Spica. 'Is it alright if I ask you what actually happened today inside of the ministry?' Harry asked tentatively.

'Yeah, though I'm not sure I'm supposed to answer the question. It's not something that happens everyday. As a mater of fact, I don't even think such an event has ever been recorded in the history books.'

'But certainly you weren't the first to do such a thing. By the looks of it, it seemed very risky business, the stunt that you pulled out there.' Harry said.

'No one can play unpunished with the mysteries of life and death.' Spica murmured. 'That is something they teach us from the beginning at Salem.' Spica offered, her voice feeling hollow in the huge space. 'In fact those dementors helped us a lot.'

Harry's green eyes settled on Spica again as she explained further.

'Dementors are sort of like spirits that escaped from that place. They need living souls in order to survive outside, in our world. They trap souls inside of them, and in this way they solidify their bond to our world. There's a very strong force, virtually unbreakable, that keeps all souls on the other side of the veil.' Spica clarified.

'But you managed to drag Sirius about, and you've just told me that dementors escaped that place.' Harry said, pointing out an apparent flaw in her explanation.

Spica hesitated, but only for a moment. 'Look, I don't know how dementors did it, for that you should probably ask Dumbledore. But I do know the souls that escaped the dementors managed to confuse the force in some way, or maybe it thought the exchange was rather acceptable.' Spica's offer of explanation managed to confuse Harry further.

'I think there might be some books in here on what I'm trying to tell you here. This is actually the reason why I wanted to come here. Would you mind helping me?' Spica said, swivelling her head around the room.

Their search proved to be a fruitless quest. The room seemed set on preserving its ancient treasures. Many of the books were probably more dangerous then the ones stored in the forbidden section of Hogwarts library. Harry wasn't even sure what they were searching for, but he was sure Spica was hiding something else and she was not letting him in on it.

While leafing through one of the hardback volumes he felt his eyes draw close. It seemed he could no longer evade the sleep he had denied himself on countless times lately. His eyes closed without him even noticing, and before he could do a thing he was already asleep.

Harry opened his eyes to find himself in a darken void. For as much as he could tell he was probably locked inside a cellar or some other confining space, all by himself. He blinked a couple of times, hoping his eyes would get adjusted to the darkness. When he opened his eyes again he could tell there was a figure silhouetted not far away. It was surrounded by a bluish hue. He stepped a bit closer focusing on what he was seeing. There was something unnatural about it. As he got even closer he noticed it was kneeling.

Harry moved towards it. There was something wrong with this person, they were probably not feeling well. He didn't know what to do. He drew even closer and tentatively leaned forward and placed his hands on her shoulder, giving it a quick rub.

It lifted its head, to reveal a wrinkled face. The woman before Harry was probably just as old as Dumbledore. Harry's shock was even bigger when the woman opened her eyes that were opaque without pupils.

The woman spoke to him in harsh tones.

"_Deep dark in His Majesty's kingdom_

_A portent of tomorrow's world_

_There shall the liquid give Him power_

_The red-eyed unborn lord_

_Fatal embrace of the blood red waters_

_The cradle of infinite gloom_

_The spell to master this Earth_

Carven on an infant's tomb" 

Once the seer had spoken her prophecy, she vanished without a trace leaving, Harry frozen to the spot. He looked around to see where she had gone. He even tried to feel with his hands if she was still there, but to no avail. He was alone now, but the echo of her words still reverberated in the empty space around him.

By then Harry was acutely aware he was not truly awake. Though he felt aware of his acts, he doubted he could actually do anything. It felt almost as if being trapped in a memory. Sort of like being in a Pensieve. Soon all faded into nothingness and he lost consciousness.

The prophecy is actually some lyrics from a song. Devil & the Deep Dark Ocean-Nightwish.


End file.
